


Taylor Made Venom

by Storm0fCrows



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Venom (Comics)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-05-04 23:52:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm0fCrows/pseuds/Storm0fCrows
Summary: Things are strange after locker. Taylor doesn't need to breath, can sense danger from a mile away, has an insatiable hunger for chocolate, and there's a voice inside her head that wants to make her a hero. (Or the one where Taylor makes a friend in the locker.)





	1. Mania 1-1

> Betad by Calomagno-2

> XxX  
>    
>  Mania 1.1  
>    
>  Brockton Bay is place like few others. Wasn't a big settlement when the thirteen original colonies popped up and had been a pirate port for years before Nassau became the go to place for smugglers and the like. It grew faster than Boston but never became as big of a metropolis. Boston had a better port and less unsavory characters populated it. It was, much like Providence considered a town famous for its old school gangsters and famous for its ports… but then Parahumans made an appearance and Brockton Bay went to shit.  
>    
>  Allfather was the first Parahuman gang leader to settle in Brockton, the Teeth soon followed and other nameless gangs sprung from the earth and tried to make names for themselves expanded by challenging them for territory. Interestingly enough, they were cut down soon after they emerged. War spread like a wildfire until eventually a Villain going by the name Marquis managed to force a tentative peace between the gangs. He was a legend amongst us Brocktonites who at the time viewed him as the only sane Parahuman in this city. He was the only Parahuman in his entire gang but the number of regulars that joined him helped him drive the other gangs away if they ever became too rowdy. He used his mafia to effectively control the E88, to drive out the Teeth, and even repel the Slaughter House Nine… but like all good things it didn't last.  
>    
>  With the advent of the gangs came heroes to stop them. The Brockton Bay Brigade, this city's first homegrown team, took down Marquis in his own home and became New Wave. They were for a time the largest alliance of heroes to ever grace this city. They believed in Parahuman accountability and decried the Protectorate as a shield for some of the more shady Villains turned heroes. For their troubles an Allfather fanatic decided that was a good idea to kill one of them to send a message. Asshole gets crucified by Kaiser but let's just say Brockton Bay doesn't have as many colorful heroes as we used to. Sure, we've got the Protectorate but most of them aren't from Brockton Bay.  
>    
>  New Wave still has a lot of support around theese parts, but controversy still surrounds their role in Brockton Bay and the fall of Marquis. Few openly defend Marquis, but he was the lesser out of all the evils that plagued Brockton Bay, and people still remember the relative peace he brought. The fact that New Wave and the Protectorate are not able to even guarantee the same stability Marquis brought only further harms their support. However, as of now they are the lesser of all the evils by a wide margin.  
>    
>  Me? I couldn't care less about the whole situation. None of it seemed to matter in the long run. New Wave had lost its teeth once Fleur died and the gangs were worse than ever. Brockton Bay has been going down the drain since before the Parahumans made their claim. They were just nails in the coffin, and Leviathan was the dirt atop the casket… well that's not exactly true  
>    
>  Brockton Bay is a city like few others because no matter what happened its people will never give up on it. No matter how hard us natives try to distance ourselves from the turmoil, the pain, and the general apathy we cant just look away… this is our city, our home, its in our blood. It's funny because no matter how much we complain about the state of Brockton none of us really ever leave, not those of us that were born here. We're the ones who don't leave. We can't, we feel like the city's a part of us.  
>    
>  But no one is perfect.  
>    
>  Everyone's got their thing.  
>    
>  We are no exception.  
>    
>  **We** understand how some of us can become monsters.  
>    
>  Maybe it's a break-up; a death; an accident… an attack, or an amalgamation of all that in a relatively short span of time. Whatever it is, you used to be one thing. Now, you're something else. We all have our own problems and when I look at myself in the mirror that becomes abundantly clear. Gone was the lanky, beanpole frame that had I inherited from my father and in its place was an athletic build with tightly packed muscles and a flexibility I had never known. Slowly but surely **our** personality began to change too… **we** couldn't risk allowing **our** self to be put in the position that caused my apparent trigger.  
>    
>  Half eaten by insects, blood poisoned, and hysterical.  
>    
>  Three weeks in and out of hospital cause the doctors wanted to be sure there was nothing wrong with while taking as much money from **our** Dad as they legally could. Two weeks at Winslow had pushed our restraint to the absolute edge. It was just so tempting to give in… No.  
>    
>  **We** literarily couldn't afford it.  
>    
>  Wait-No.  
>    
>  **We** meant to say I.  
>    
>  _I meant. I meant. I meant._  
>    
>  Fuck.  
>    
>  It has me doing it again.  
>    
>  My name is Taylor Hebert a **nd we are Venom**.  
>    
>  XxX  
>    
>  "We shouldn't be here." I whisper beneath a mask of black and two large white eyes. Here, being a rundown part of the docks… on the side of a wall overlooking an ongoing crime. Three men in ABB colors had a girl that looked a bit younger than me surrounded. I personally wanted to be hero, which usually meant that I wouldn't be hesitating in this type of situation, but my other half had control issues. Like the time **we** punched a hole in a ship after Sophia tripped **us** earlier in the day.  
>    
>  **" _We can go where we please_." ** Of course it would say that. I couldn't tell you the number of times I'd found myself full Venom in a candy store gorging myself on chocolate. That is how I found out that my other half could take control of my body when I was asleep. A user on PHO named xX_Void_Cowboy_Xx had pretty much brought it to the forefront of the forum… lets just say that when I finally decide to make myself public it needed to be something big or no one would ever take **us** seriously.  
>    
>  "We can't hurt them too badly."  
>    
>  **" _They're thieves, Taylor, criminals_."** The voice whispers in my ear. Soft toxic, notes that should have been reassuring but did nothing to quell my anxiety. It sounded like my mother sometimes but more often than not it sounded completely inhuman. I was sort of miffed at my other half for its hypocrisy. " ** _They won't learn unless we make them."_ We ** move slowly, like a leopard stalking its prey, listening and watching the gangbangers threaten the poor girl.  
>    
>  "Come on, girly." A one eyed member taunted, pulling out a dagger from his waistcoat. "Pick one, one eye, the nose, the mouth, or both ears. Mei here thinks she has what it takes to be a _member_ , you'll be doing her a favor, so you choose one of the above, and she goes to town on the part in question, proves her worth. Think of it as giving to the community."  
>    
>  "Fuck you." The girl spat out defiantly. "I ain't picking shit!"  
>    
>  As I moved closer I began to doubt my previous assertion that she was younger than me. She was hot like Emma, except the traitorous bitch didn't have anything on her… well maybe a better sense of fashion. Large breasts, at least two sizes larger than mine and body like a model.  
>    
>  Fuck, she even had high cheekbones… why did genetics have to be so unfair?  
>    
>  **" _My former host would have agreed."_** A manifestation of her other half, black as its main body appeared on the girl's exposed shoulder. It looked like the chestbuster from that Aleph movie… Alien or Aliens? I really couldn't remember. Not that it mattered when these ABB assholes are about to permanently scar a girl. **_"In moments like this he would say: 'Sploosh but with semen'."_** It was smiling right at me with its rows of sharp fangs.  
>    
>  I shuddered as it used my mother's voice. There are things I never wanted to hear my mother say.  
>    
>  "That comes later." A large heavyset man chuckled with a sinister grin. "The farms will be glad to have you." Oh hell no. **We** won't be holding back after that. These bastards didn't deserve **our** mercy when they wanted to mutilate her and now she wasn't inclined to give it..  
>    
>  "Screw letting her pick, just give me the knife Xiao." The heavily made up woman in heels demanded. Xiao handed her the knife but to my surprise the girl isn't looking at her attackers. She's looking at me with wide eyes. "I love the fear in your eyes girl, I love seeing it..." She takes a step forward and the girl takes one back just as I drop with an audible thud.  
>    
>  Normally, I'm in a mostly black suit, white spider covered most of my abdomen, my mask covered all of my face and my hair becoming long black tendrils that could lift things… but when I was angry my other half replace my chin with a maw much like its own with a very long tongue.  
>    
>  " **What a coincidence!" We** call out with an exaggerated amount of glee. **"SO DO WE!"** **We** leap into the air with the singular intent of taking out the big one in the least lethal way my other half would allow.  
>    
>  Translation: Full body cast.  
>    
>  A punch to the ribs cracked them, cost about thirty seven thousand dollars: a kick to the knee shattered it: Knee replacement thirty five thousand or more; grabbing his arms to use him as bat to harm his friends? Now that's priceless.  
>    
>  **We** follow trough with our plan with inhuman quickness. We feel the ankle snap because of the force of the swing and the other half of the large man's ribs crack.  
>    
>  Xiao and the large man crumple as we slam them against the wall, repeatedly. Mei tries to run but our webs shoot out from **our** wrists and catch her. She screams as **we** drag her towards **us.** She is so desperate to escape that she attempts to cut the web with the serrated part of her knife but it does nothing. **We** aren't stupid enough to assume that she has given up; **we** just can't help but enjoy just how stupid people are.  
>    
>  We fling the web line over an overhead lamp post and begin to tug.  
>    
>  **We** raise her until she is level with **our** face and grin. She shrieks loudly and stabs us in the neck. It feels like a prick of a needle, so **we** can't help the chuckle that escapes us.  
>    
>  Is it wrong that I feel zero remorse for this? Maybe, but **we** have to admit that this is fun.  
>    
>  " **You're despicable."** We hiss together, me and my other half, the ABB bitch is crying, calling me a monster even though she was about to mutilate a defenseless girl. The long tongue wraps itself around the hilt of the knife and pulls it out form our throat. " **You and all you're kind!"** That sounded way less racist in my head… good job, Taylor. **"Preying on the defenseless, bringing nothing but misery! We will not HAVE IT!"**  
>    
>  **We** release the line of web and allow her to fall on her head. It won't kill her but it will be enough to give her concussion. A tingle in **our** hindbrain warns us of an immanent danger coming to us from the broken bodies of Xiao and the large man. We crouch as if to examine Mei just as the bullet wizzes by harmlessly over **our** head.  
>    
>  Without even looking **we** shoot a thick line of web into the barrel of the gun and waited for it to explode. It shattered in his hand sending small pieces of metal into to it. He screamed as the scent of blood permeated the air. The police wouldn't show up, this was the Docks and at night only an idiot would patrol through here, especially with Lung skulking about.  
>    
>  There was a rustle from behind **us** and **we** turned fully intent on mauling any remaining ABB but came face to face with the object of our rescue. Instantly, the rows of teeth receded into the mask an I gave her **our** best sorry attempt at a smile. Our large eyes dropped to show just how apologetic we were for forgetting she was there.  
>    
>  " **Oh… Forgive us for being rude…"** Yeah, this is awkward. How exactly does one go about interacting with people that have possibly gone through a traumatic event? The nurses in the hospital weren't exactly welcoming and the doctors were just as distant as the nurses… You know what? Fuck it; we're the hero in this scenario. So what if **we** came off as bit sadistic? They were about to mutilate a girl! This was **us** responding with equal force to the present threat… but then again mom used to say that a good first impression could go a long way. How else did dad manage to woo mom? **"Hi! We are Venom."** Looking around **we** spotted a small purple handbag looking thing that went with her trashy outfit. **We** scooped it as we made to hand it to her. We gently pushed it into her breasts with one hand and patted her on the head with another. **"You're** **safe now."**  
>    
>  The girl was frozen in place but slowly she grabbed the bag by its sides. " T-thank you? This isn't-"  
>    
>  **"No, please." We** interrupt appreciatively. **"There is no need to thank us."** Which there wasn't, it was heroes job to save the innocent, after all. My other half whispers some words… and feeling confident that they sounded perfectly heroic I recited them. **"Your joy is reward enough and sends us leaping happily on my way."** We lift our arm towards the nearby roof but freeze halfway… yeah… **we** should probably call the cops… Maybe an ambulance?  
>    
>  My other half poked its fanged head out of the girl's shoulder; it shot me a disapproving look. **_'Why bother? They would just spill the Blood of the Innocent.'_** Of course it would say that. My other half wasn't very… tolerant of the people it deemed to be unworthy. ** _'Leave them to their fate!'_**  
>    
>  "Heroes don't just leave people to die." I murmur under my breath. My other half grew incensed by my statement, both figuratively and literally…  
>    
>  **'Not true they left US!'**  
>    
>  And then I wasn't in some back alley in the docks anymore. The girl was gone, the gangbangers were gone, and the smell of the sea was gone… **we** were in a metallic hallway staring down at a man in in a white suit with a black spider, much like **our** own, its claw was digging into my heart as it lifted **us** off the ground.  
>    
>  _"Give it up, Eddie."_ The figure mocked as it ripped out our cardio vascular muscle _._ Black bile spewed out of our maw while we fell to our knees. _"Who do you think you're fooling? You couldn't beat Him on your best day. How the hell do you think you're going to beat me?" A kick sends us sprawling down the hallway. "We are so much more than him. So much more than Venom ever was!"_  
>    
>  "You okay?" Just like that **we're** back in the alley and the girl is staring at **us** questioningly?  
>    
>  No, that wasn't quite right… the outline of a girl was looking at **us**. She was completely transparent but my other half could see thing that would rather remain hidden.  
>    
>  I pushed back the feeling of regret that my other half sent my way and filed whatever the hell I had just seen under the file of shit that could wait until later, I think I just witnessed the birth of another Parahuman. **We** tilted our head slightly **our** curiosity helping to distract me from the man in white.  
>    
>  "You spaced out for a minute, don't tell me that bitch caught you with her knife, cause that would be so lame… my names Aisha by the by... why are you staring at me?"  
>    
>  **_"_ You're invisible." We** pointed out kindly. " **Why didn't you use that before? You could have used it to escape."** I mean everything I had read on PHO while I was in the hospital pretty much warned that Parahumans fainted when another Parahuman triggered. Was that why I saw the man in the white suit?  
>    
>  The girl looked at her hands appreciatively but **we** could detect the micro expressions detailing her rapidly shifting emotions. Distress, excitement, confusion, contentment… " **Sorry, it was rude of us to assume that you had this ability before hand."** There is a smile on my exposed face but I'm not sure it's comforting. **We** aren't good at this. Well, my other half is but only to me. The only person to ever really comfort me was Emma after mom died... and that only till before I went off to camp… then she turned into **our** worst bully.  
>    
>  "What the fuck? What the fuck? What the actual fuck?!"  
>    
>  Yeah… I pretty much had the same reaction when I woke up in the hospital not being able to breath. It felt like I was drowning but then my other half began to talk and… well I wouldn't say that I calmed down but at least I wasn't panicking.  
>    
>  Not like her.  
>    
>  Then it hits me.  
>    
>  I hadn't been alone when I awoke; my other half was there to talk me through the changes.  
>    
>  **"Do you have a phone?"** **We** ask her gently. She doesn't seem to hear us, so we take her bag and rummage through it until I find a small flip phone. " **Is there anyone I can call?"** When she doesn't react once more we press the first number and wait for it to ring. Thank you, speed dial. She's almost fully freaking out at this point and if **we** weren't s strong I might have slapped her.  
>    
>  _"This better be an emergency, Aisha, I told you not to use this line unless_ -" His voice was deep and muffled  
>    
>  **"Greetings _." We_** say into the phone cutting him off. _"_ **We are Venom and Aisha is kind of having a panic attack. Identify yourself so I can tell you where you can find her."** I wasn't about to give Aisha to a pimp… wait, holy shit she might be a prostitute! But why would she be in ABB turf? Usually people were smarter than to mess with Lung's operation.  
>    
>  _"I'm her brother."_ His voice deepens… **we** think he's tying to intimidate **us** through the phone but I can't be sure. " _Where is my sister!?" H_ e's demanding, angry too, it feels real enough that I don't doubt he's telling the truth.  
>    
>  " **We are in an alleyway near the exit that leads to Downtown…" We** try to give him the best directions w **e** can but even I'm not sure how I got here. **"You know what? Meet us at Fugly Bob's. It's near the Market and I'm pretty sure Aisha could use a soda."**  
>    
>  **We** don't wait for his reply, the phone close with a click and I stuff it in the bag. A tendril of my wraps around Aisha's slim waist just before I shoot into the air.  
>    
>  This is my favorite part. It feels like **we're** flying like Alexandria. Unstoppable and unbeatable **we** zoomed across the night sky with the help of **our** webs.  
>    
>  XxX  
>    
>  **_I am sad._**  
>    
>  **_Do not know why._**  
>    
>  **_Miss Eddie and Flash but Taylor is nice._**  
>    
>  **_She doesn't hurt us like Eddie did but she trusts us more than Flash ever could… so why am I sad?_**  
>    
>  **_To Eddie, I was his everything._**  
>    
>  **_To Flash, I was his partner._**  
>    
>  **_To Taylor I am another part of her… she cares about us like family… so I treat her like she deserves to be treated but she is young. She doesn't know how cruel Humans can be._**  
>    
>  **_Not Yet._**  
>    
>  **_Not Ever._**  
>    
>  **_Because she will be a part of me like I am a part of her. She doesn't need to know what we are…_**  
>    
>  **_Not yet._**  
>    
>  **_Maybe not Ever._**  
>    
>  **_…_**  
>    
>  **_…_**  
>    
>  **_…_**  
>    
>  **_…_**  
>    
>  **_Still sad but I cant dwell on that now._**  
>    
>  **_Taylor needs me._**  
>    
>  **_Needs us._**  
>    
>  XxX  
>    
>  A/N: Puns are the best!  
>    
>  Welcome to my first attempt at first person perspective! Brought you by my over exposure the new Venom trailer and my own love for the Lethal Protector. You may have notice the few I's and Me's floating around in Taylors seech, this is her pushing at its influence to refer to herself as an individual while the collective nouns are darkened because it's Venom trying to correct her.  
>    
>  I'm starting a bit before Worm start because I doubt that anyone could keep our beloved Dark Avenger contained for long when exposed to the trio and when he reacts its not going to be pretty for anyone

 


	2. Chapter 2

Mania 1.2

Betad by Carlomagno-2

"… **Wondering in the Night. What where the chances we'd be sharing love before the night was through?"** **Our** voice doesn't carry, as we swing high over the bustling street. No one sees us as we blend seamlessly with the world around us. Brockton Bay isn't like New York… something that my other half enjoys tremendously. It loves that its buildings are nowhere as tall, that **we** could get a ton of meat real cheap at the restaurants, chill on rooftops, and generally be a hero… but most of all he likes how the city reminds it of its first real home.

A city beneath San Francisco, were it was loved and it protected the helpless against Parahumans that I could barely even imagine… and then there's the two women that tried their best to make it feel welcome, Beck Underwood and Elizabeth. **We** don't really have that here, mom's dead, killed in a car crash on a rainy Thursday while texting me a message she would never be able to send, and dad… well… he might as well be dead with the way he is acting. Depressed, angry, but worst of all, he's quiet. He goes to work minutes after waking me up and comes back long after **we're** supposed be asleep. My other half tells me he smells of fermented wheat and hops… which means he's been drinking after work. Something he denies whenever I bring it up, but **we** can tell when he's lying.

My other half doesn't like it but doesn't know how to deal with it.

It has shown me memories of two men that called themselves father but they were at extremes of what my dad was doing. The first was a rich man, tall skinny, with blonde hair. He smiled for his neighbors, for his mailman, for his daughter, but never at **us** , and it slowly killed **us**. **We** worked so hard to make him happy and proud but nothing would work, every achievement that we acquired was written off with a look of quiet loathing and false words of encouragement. He hated **us** but never said it until the day that **we** wrote about the wrong thing about the wrong man. The second man didn't hide his hatred like the first, he drank and he lashed out… in turn **we** lashed out against those **we** perceived to be weaker. He did it because **we** were everything that he wanted to be. Until one day **we** grew up and made him stop.

' _STOP fucking with my head.'_ **We** call out to it. ' ** _Our_** _dad doesn't hate **u** \- me.'_

_"… **Strangers in the night. Two lonely people, we were strangers in the night…"**_

_' **But he does resent you."**_ It whispers in my ear. It's mom's voice and I can't help the sigh that escapes me. I can't help but think that part of **us,** a part of ME, that has been present since before the incident at Winslow, knows that what my other half says is true. He is beginning to sound like the first man in my others memories… and hopefully he would never become like the second. ' ** _We won't let it come to that, Taylor.'_**

**I** didn't respond… not really knowing how… so **we** keep quiet as we land softly in an empty alleyway and release Aisha from the confines of **our** hair. **Our** pretty charge had a vacant look on her face as the tendrils unwrapped themselves from her person. **We** hold her steady while she comes back to herself. While she busies herself regaining consciousness **we** decided to change into something less intimidating.

Most of **our** hair sunk into our scalp and **our** black skin changes texture and color until **we're** unrecognizable. In this form **we-** I am beautiful, beyond Emma and Aisha, but **we** know that it's just another mask and not **our** true face. **Our** hair became silver, the skin became fine and smooth, **our** eyes are green, **our** mouth is smaller and **our** lips are a shade like pinkpearl. Our body was definitely shapelier, wide hips and **our** bust was at least a C cup. **We're** dressed in an old bomber jacket that felt familiar though I had never worn it, black t-shirt, worn blue jeans. The _bomber_ jacket had a circular patch on each shoulder with **our** soon to be iconicwhite spider.

"…Up to the moment we said hello…" Her blank eyes came to focus as she took in a deep breath of fresh Brockton night air. With **our** new face firmly in place **we** smiled at the disoriented teen. Aisha blinked once and the twice as she began to fade into the alley. **We** give her a quick shake and she snaps her back into reality.

"Who the fuck are you?" She said as she tries to jump away, it doesn't get her very far but at least she has good instincts. **We** don't answer with words. Instead we simply reach into the jacket and pull out a piece of us to look like the cloth that **we present to her** as **our** "mask."

"The name's Felicia." **We** lie as we take a step back and extend an 'uncovered' hand as a way of greeting. Felicia Hardy was someone my other knew well in three very different ways. She was paramour in one set of memories, ally against assassins like the Puma and mobsters like the Rose; in another she was a onetime enemy and then an a reluctant ally against something that put the Slaughter House Nine to shame but it's all too blurry to understand; and in the third… **we** remember feelings love and loss.

That last set kind of annoys me personally. She loved **us** -HIM and he turned her away because he felt that he was playing second fiddle to a hero my other absolutely hates. She proposed and **we** \- he threw her aside because of insecurity. You know what's the worst part? The look on her face when **we** said that he didn't love her… kind of resonated with me.

Emma pretty much did the same thing. We were so close, I would have done anything for her and she abandoned me for Sophia.

So yeah, I chose Felicia's face because she's sort of like **us**.

Though admittedly, the fact that it's both a "comfortable" transformation and makes me feel very pretty also adds to my taking this form.

**Betrayed but not broken.**

**Betrayal is good.**

**It feeds our rage and joins us with the strength to bring Justice!**

"So, come on." I urge on, releasing her arm. "Let's get some sugar in you."

Aisha looks at me with thinly veiled skepticism on her face but follows us to Fugly Bob's all the same. There's a small quirk on her lips but **we** can't even begin to guess why. The stink of dogs made me hurry a bit more once it hit me.

We march through the door and are almost instantly greeted… by the restaurant's greeter. She was an older woman that looked at **us** skeptically as **we** ask for a table for two but guides us to a far off booth all the same.

Fugly Bob's is the cheapest place where **we** could get cooked meat and chocolate milkshakes. It is without a doubt my other's favorite restaurant in the whole of Brockton Bay, it's themed like the stereotypical New England clam shack, with faded grey wooden boards and an assortment of colorful knickknacks that hung of rusted screws, despite only selling clam chowder on every other Thursday.

It used to be the premiere seafood joint in the Bay till Leviathan wrecked the fishing industry. Dad used to take mom and me here twice a week after school. It's been a while since we've come here, but it is still nice to see something survive despite all the difficulty.

Aisha and **us** are currently seated in a booth surrounded on two sides by large glass windows. The one behind **us** has a view of the Bay and the Rig, home of the local Protectorate branch and a bright spire in an ocean of darkness. Behind Aisha we could see an empty Boardwalk. Now, when **we** said empty we meant devoid of Innocents for **us** to protect not the Guilty for **us** topurge.

The Empire Eighty Eight in their efforts to boost their image and assuage their pride like to bleed into PRT territory. These occurrences weren't too common and normally didn't result in serious clashes. The gangs were too focused on other more profitable endeavors to focus on poking the PRT bear. Similarly, the Merchants could occasionally be seen wandering about the area looking for a fight or feeling out the local markets, which made it one of the most heavily patrolled areas on this side of the city. Again, the PRT likely did this as a show of strength given its visibility. Also the tourists loved the Market.

That made **us** jumpy, but in the good way.

On the one hand **we** don'tmind, it gives **us** the chance to be a hero. But on the other it means tangling with the PRT which could cause problems for **us.**

An older man with greying hair, who could only be the owner, approached us with as kind a smile as he could muster. He looked fairly tired, his eyes being slightly scrunched and his smile not quite reaching his eyes. **Our** theory was supported by the bland nametag that read ROBERT in big bold 's wearing a mostly clean uniform with a few grease stains for authenticity. "Welcome to Fugly Bob's, I'll be taking your orders till some of the other staff free up in a bit." He gives Aisha a quick appreciative look before turning to **us**.

There's a flicker of anger that passes through **us** as soon as his eyes travel up the shaken teen's body before going cloudy and settling onto **our** impressive visage. **We** aren't used to this kind attention but it's really unwelcome coming from a guy that's at least decade older than my dad.

"Can I start you ladies off with a couple of drinks? Cola, water, or a milkshake?" He asks, averting his gaze.

" **W-** I'll have a jumbo chocolate cake shake and she'll have a coke." **We** say with a distracting smile. Better he look at **us** than ogle Aisha. "And the biggest burger you've got." **We** look away from Robert, towards the empty Market and sighed at what **we** saw.

My other didn't like beating those that were down on their luck but he wouldn't hesitate if they put Innocents in danger and that was pretty much that pretty much defined the Archer's Bridge Merchants as a collective. A loose gathering of disenfranchised junkies under the control of three Parahumans that called themselves a gang. They didn't have colors like the ABB or the Empire but anyone could tell who was Merchant just by looking at the scars on their arms and holes between their fingers. Most didn't consider them to be a threat, at least in the way the ABB or E88 were. They had fewer capes, less wealth and significantly less standing, but they were as dangerous to the city in what they represented. They didn't have a defined ideology, like E88 or the toxic collective identity of the ABB, but they represented the easiest escape for many who didn't fit the other gang's molds.

They are a sickness that needs to be **PURGED** from this city before it could be allowed to spread any further.

"Miss." Robert brings **us** out of **our** sour thoughts. "Your mascara is running."

But **we** don't move till they're in the restaurant and the stench of piss and poison quickly spreads. Robert notices them as the restaurant grows quiet and leaves our table to deal with the problem before it can escalate.

He isn't successful.

Merchants are almost universally short on cash, given the demographics who gravitate to their grasp and particular business structure. However, as one imagine they aren't the sanest in the bay and the PHO has discussed the numerous seemingly unmotivated cases of assault and battery. In some cases they even forgot to mug their targets. It seems these Merchants fit that description, as the moment Robert stepped up to deescalate one of the Merchants took a swing at him with a metal bat.

Not that we allowed it to hit poor Robert, no. **We** cross the room with the proportional speed of a spider and rip the makeshift weapon from their hand and impale it in the lead Merchant's knee. **We manage to** shove him and his five buddies out the door using **our** webbing as he clumsily begins trying to simultaneously defend and reorient himself, screaming as his sense catch up to his agonizing reality

There are a few gasps behind us as the customers see **us** for the first time. **We** do look rather intimidating in the black suit with the white spider over our chest. **Our** long black hair is floating behind us like a mass of tendrils, ready to strike at a moment's notice. **We** turn to Robert and pat him on the shoulder gently.

" **Have no fear, citizen." We** reassure the people with a toothy smile. " **Venom is here!"**

**We** exit Fugly Bob's slowly, allowing three the Merchants who were in the back of the group, and therefore not hit directly by **our** webbing, to stand and pull out their knives and guns.

"Fuckin' psycho cape bitch!" One of them shouts and charges blindly towards **us**. He's obviously fairly clumsy and not nearly fast enough to cover the distance so as to surprise us, but he seems to at least know more or less what he is doing with a knife **.** "You think you can fuck with the Merch-" he starts saying before **we** sway out of the way easily given my inhuman grace.

" **Vermin!"** **We** growl, maw forming and tongue slipping out between rows of sharp teeth. **"You, who sought to hurt and maim the Innocent, have the audacity to call me a psychopath!" We** don't wait for them anymore. A hair tendril shoots out to my left, striking the Merchant that thought he was being smart by creeping out of **our** line of sight. **"You are all slime!"** The tendrils pierces the would be flanker's near the right collar bone, hooking around said bone, yanking him off balance and breaking the bone in the process **.** We keep our eyes on the remaining merchant while this happens. He lifts his gun to take a shot when he believes **we** am distracted. However, before he can **our** sense warns us of the volley of bullets that the two Merchants pinned by webbing, including their leader, where unleashing on **us.**

**We** don't move. It's better for **us** to suffer the tickling sensation as the bullets impact us than for them to turn it on the Innocent. Each shot that hits sinks into our skin. It's not nice to steal what doesn't belong to **us,** so we return them with as much glee as when they were taken. Of course, **we** return them in the same manner. **We** do as children do when they don't have money for toy guns. We focus on the first to draw their weapon, each bullet nailing him in a joint that had doubtlessly been used for evil. **"Barbarians at the gate that have allowed to gather!"**

He won't die from his injuries but **we** made sure he would never trouble another soul with his predations.

One of the two remaining merchants had the good sense to run… the other pointed his gun at the restaurant. It was sad attempt at taking hostages and he would pay for it. **We** whipped **our** head around and smashed his arms with **our** hair. **We** let the other one run, play the messenger and spread the word that there was a new hero on prowl.

It's a satisfying feeling when **we** feel his arm snap, just like when **we** beat those ABB...

ABB.

Fuck.

FUCK!

I forgot to call the ambulance!

**Who cares? The Guilty were punished by our righteous hand. We're heroes now, Taylor and sssoon the city will know of ussss!**

' _Thant's not the point_!' I argue. ' _We left them way worse than these guys! I thought you said that you didn't want anyone to die!_ '

**I am sure they are fine. People shake those kinds of injuries off all the time.**

'What are you talking about?! **We** left them bleeding out. People don't just walk that off, at least not in Brockton Bay!' I can't help the whine that escapes me. Luckily we were far enough away that it didn't ruin the heroic image **we** are going for. ' _People here are waaaay squishier than they are in your memories!'_ Seriously, every one my other ever met had a minor brute rating! Buildings would collapse on them and they'd be beaten to hell but still alive.

**Fair point…**

I shake our head in slight disbelief but decide to let the matter drop in favor of attending to the citizens within Fugly Bob's before the police arrive. **"There is no need to thank us, citizens, your safety is reward enough for our efforts!"** And with a wave of **our** hand **we** fade out of view as we jump into the air. This is in an attempt at misdirection. Those watching would believe that **we** had left while in truth **we can** simply double back and sneak in though the back to booth **we** share with Aisha.

**We** crawl through the top of the doorframe as the mass of spectators exit the restaurant. There are faces of awe within the gathering crowed and those filled with fear. It's not difficult for **us** to understand that some will see **our** brutality as needless but **we** take comfort in knowing that there are those who approve of **our** mission. **We** flatten ourselves on the low hanging roof until **we** are right above our table and quickly but silently descend onto **our** seat.

No one's the wiser of **our** deception as Felicia seemingly pops up from beneath the table looking confused. However, no one had noticed that Aisha has slipped away and **we** are left alone.

**We** feel disappointment at her absence but there is nothing to be done about it. Sure, **we** could follow her scent but she had run away for a reason. She is, at least, well enough to walk away and find her brother and thus not **our** problem. **We** are content to wait for **our** food to arrive, maybe talk to the police if **we** are in the mood.

It's then that **we** see something in the darkness. Too far to make out specific features but close enough for **us** to distinguish four figures with **our** sharp eyes. One is tall and has a wide frame. He's hugging one of the other figures tightly… small feminine and harder to see than the others… guess that's Aisha… thirds one short bulky, androgynous, short hair leads us to believe male... like **we** can talk… and the fourth one is looking this way… hair billows, long…. Her body is feminine. She flinches as soon as **we** settle on her and then she waves.

Ifeel a weight settle on my lap. My other waives back with a happy grin.

**We** probably won't see her or again, or at least for a while, but knowing she's OK kind of gives me hope **we** can be the kind of hero we always wanted to be.

It doesn't take long for the police to arrive and the PRT with them, but luckily the food had also arrived. Miss Militia stepped out of the PRT van with her weapon holstered on her right hip. She had her iconic American flag scarf and sash on her waist. **We** could tell immediately when she took control of the operation; the police don't turn to her for direction, they know what they're supposed to do. It is clear in how they moved around her, always keeping close to quickly respond if needed yet conscious to never get in her way. She began by looking at the bodies once and the turning her attention to the restaurant.

It isn't long before Velocity shows up in his red race stripe suit.

**Our** attention is drawn away from the activity outside by an officer approaching **us**. It takes everything within us not to growl. **We** recognize him from the locker investigation… the one that hasn't, and undoubtedly won't, produce anything against the perpetrators. I can't imagine the odds, even if the PRT is short staffed, especially concerning investigators. However, this does seem to be just my luck. "Excuse me, miss…"

"Hardy." **We** say taking an exaggeratingly big bite out of our burger. He looks at us to elaborate but we take our time chewing before swallowing. "Felicia."

"Right, Felicia Hardy, did you witness the events that led up to the fight that left those gentlemen in their condition." He asks gesturing to the Merchants being treated for their wounds, some of whom were already being restrained our lifted for emergency treatment. .

"Not really, I ducked and covered the second I saw the Merchant rolling in looking for trouble…"

And that was how **we** spent a good twenty minutes of our night.

XxX

**We** crawl up the side of the wall and stop at the window. A tendril of black slithered out of **our** extended index finger, sliding between the partitions of the window and unlocking it with a muffle click. Now this is the hard part, opening the window without it screeching and waking up dad… so **we** carefully open the frame, keeping a firm hold on the window to prevent rattling or excessive grinding. **We** duck in as soon as we open it enough to allow **us** to slide in, using my hair tendrils to close the window behind us with equal care. As the window closes with a soft thud, my other retreats into my body. At that moment, just like that I quickly become sad little Taylor again.

I catch my reflection and I can't even recognize myself anymore. Muscles are compact, tight, there's not an ounce of fat in in my body. Half my hair is gone… it's growing back but there's angry red scar running from above my ear to base of my skull were the doctor had to cut me open to remove some of the nastier bugs that had crawled beneath my, the other half had been butchered in an attempt to remove some the 'items' stuck to it .It wouldn't ever grow back the same way and for that I would never forgive Emma.

But that doesn't matter anymore. Alone, I was weak. A victim but… but with my other… I can be anyone.

We can be the hero Brockton Bay needs and deserves.

But for now… I need to process. I need to sleep and to sort through dreams and memories of what makes us, well, **us.**

XxX

A/N: Here's chapter two! sorry for the delay but my computer died last month and i had wait some time before i could get it fixed. Lost some of my documents with it but had a much older back up ready for when i got it fixed. Which really sucks but i'll manage.

Are any of you up to speed in the current Venom comic? 'Cause Holy shitsnacks the villain is pretty much Zion name is Knull and he's declared himself God of the Symbiotes. My theory is that he's the first of the Corrupted because of the way he can sever the sacred bond between Symbiote and host... he also controls a giant Symbiote dragon false body.

Onto the story notes!

Taylor has a scar on the side of her head due to small alteration a did to her locker. In my old high school all lockers had this metal hook on the side so you could hang stuff from, so i added it to hers. When she was shoved in she cut her head lightly and that's when the bugs crawled and had to be surgically removed.


	3. Mania 1-3

Mania 1.3

 **Valentine's day is tomorrow… or is it today? Humans have a strange way of measuring time with am and pm. If it's twelve pm we get food but if it's twelve am it's a new day. We look at Taylor's clock and notice it's two zero zero am… so it is today. Learned** **from Flash that it is good to give gifts on this day. He gave some to Betty, his mom, his sister and even one to the Betrayer. He said that it was a day to give to the special people, especially women, in our life, and Taylor is very special.**

**She wants to be a hero, and therefore we will be a hero again. But first we teach her** **everything they taught me.** **I don't think I could be a villain again… hurt too many people.**

**Like in the TV show!**

**"** _We can rebuild him. We have the technology. We can make him better than he was. Better, stronger, faster."_

**Change her body to make it stronger, like the Asgardians Gargan loved to devour. Muscles are compact and skin like theirs. Now, even without me she would be fine. Not that we will ever be apart. She'll be fast and in time I'll teach her how Flash taught me! Taylor is special now, but I can make her so much more special,** **just need time.**

 **I miss having a TV in the same room where we sleep. It's the best way to learn things, like how to better my connection to my hosts! It used to be that I threaded tendrils around the spinal column and penetrated the mid-brain with neuroreceptors** **but I learned from what happened to Eddie** **and now I am as much a part of Taylor as she is of me.**

**Another step closer to Hybridization.**

**A step closer to perfect symbiosis**

**"** You will travel far, my little Kal-El, but we will never leave you-even in the face of our deaths. You will make my strength your own. You will see my life through your eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father. And the father, the son."

**We will be great.**

**Taylor dreams… can see those clearly but I can't** **hear her thoughts when she sleeps.** **She dreams of her own Betrayer but she doesn't attack like Eddie would No, she smiles with our teeth and walks past her where she is greeted by a floating woman in black armor. She looks down on us proudly and says something that brings feelings of elation to Taylor.**

 **She reminds me of Captain America. She brings out the same feelings as the old super soldier did for a few of my former hosts. Eddie and Flash loved Captain America. With Eddie we fought alongside him against our Bastard Spawn and with Flash we saved New York… We fought against him a few days later in the snow… but** **we saved his life. Which is good! Bad we fought, good we save!**

**But this woman is no Captain America. When our Bastard Spawn took over the small town of Doverton, Colorado, Steve Rogers charged in without a thought to free the Innocent. He didn't give the order to pull back. He didn't allow that waste of Genetic Material to ruin those innocents' lives. He charged in there with the intent of driving the Sickness out. Even when he was being tortured, he gave the signal and me and Flash…**

**No, Flash and I, Taylor doesn't like it when I** **use the wrong kind of grammar, used beat Cletus within an inch of his life.** **Flash couldn't kill him, no matter how hard I begged. Too soft instead he took Cletus to Thunderbolts mountain where he escaped and slaughtered again. I had killed Carnage once but Cletus brought him back.**

**But this woman, Alexandria, she abandoned an entire town to a filthy Goblin called Nilbog. But it wasn't just her. Legend and Eidolon; they let the Guilty flourish at the cost of the Innocent. Allowing Nilbog and those like him to live is an injustice I wouldn't tolerate if my Taylor allowed me to do something about it.**

"I will not tolerate- I will not allow any talk of the necessity of necessary evil. I have spent my life on that line and every time I've seen someone cross it death and horror and shame was what followed. I will not entertain it."

**I linger in the dream for a few more minutes before turning my attention away and opening the window. It is good to see Taylor smiling but it is better to see her smile when she is awake and aware. We take the form we took in my adventures through space because it is less likely to draw comparisons, as my other forms would to Taylor's preferred style. We then jump down to the roof of the garage and begin my sprint towards Taylor's gift.**

**Taylor is special and our bond goes deeper than the others. Where the connection with most of my former** [MR20] **hosts weren't complete, Taylor accepted our bond readily and fully. It wasn't poisoned by feelings of anger like Eddie, or the incompatibility with Flash… it felt a lot like the Betrayer. But Taylor is so different from him that there is little doubt in my mind that she will never cast me off.**

**The run takes us into docks where I stick to the shadows to avoid detection. This area is filled with the Guilty. It is regrettable that I simply do not have the time to deal with them, but I know that Taylor can be guided back here easily on our patrols. This conglomerate of Guilty like to mark themselves with green and red so they will be easy to identify when the time comes to free the Innocents from their oppressors.**

**Once I reach the water, I dive in and allow us to sink into the black depths. I see many strange fish beneath the waves in the liquid black, but they avoid us like the predator that we are.** **Eventually we come upon a large circular stone door that had been pushed outwards when I escaped from this place.**

**Crawling inside was easier with a host than breaking out of it was without one.**

**It took five more minutes of swimming before we reached the ruins of what used to be a submarine** **and above it an opening that allowed us into the laboratory. Emerging from the depths we immediately saw the lower half of the rotting corpse** **that belonged to the man responsible for bringing me here.**

**In this world he was villain known as Professor Haywire but in mine he was a hero that the people knew as Mister Fantastic. It was funny 'cause this guy wasn't from this Earth and fell in neither category. This Reed Richards had been an amoral opportunist with multiple bases on this Earth. He was a thief that liked to scavenge battlefields across the multiverse for technology, and one day he came upon me… it isn't a day that I want to remember.**

**It was a very sad day.**

**But he had a good assortment of gifts I could give Taylor.**

**Not that I would give her all these potential gifts… that would spoil her, and heroes cannot be spoiled.**

**But what to choose?**

**There are a few things that I recognize from my former Earth: Vibranium shield, Falcon's wings, Ant-Man's helmet and suit, classic Wasp suit, an Ultron head, Magneto's helmet, large metal box** **, Black Widow's shock wrist things…**

 **As I look across the many gifts I can choose from I feel a** **foreign emotion just outside my sense of awareness.** **It's feels mature but at the same time nubile… and then I hear the echo of a voice speak in a tongue that my species used in ancient times. It was a single word before the emotion disappeared into the darkness of our shared mind.**

**I froze for an instant and dove into our mind in search of the source of the voice only stopping to inspect the Intruder. It was asleep like I had left it but we lingered there as I pondered the word…**

**_{Query}_ **

**It means question.**

**And this raises more question than this single 'query'. Worrying but there were far more pressing manners. If and when this becomes a problem we will deal with it. Till then our focus is required elsewhere.**

**Looking over the neatly organized array of loot I begin to scatter the boxes, opening and closing them with mounting dissatisfaction until I to the first box I had looked over. I open the one thing I do not recognize.** **Our claws dig into the steel box, and with a mighty yank one of its sides was ripped open and I could sense a familial pull.**

**A dog with light brown fur strutted out wagging its tail, still healthy after weeks of being trapped in a box. The dog looked at us and I stared back at it and we grinned.**

**My Taylor will love this!**

**XxX**

It's Monday.

And it makes me want to scream. Not because it's Monday, but because it symbolizes anther week of looking over **our** shoulder waiting for another shoe to drop **.** Waiting for Emma and her cronies to continue their harassment. Despite being ready for them, it still drags on my soul, to have to hide and fight every moment. Once to survive and now to maintain control, of both sides of myself. My other half has more uses than just being a hero; it knows how to hide in plain sight, how to get in close get the scoop and if you're lucky get the shot.

Camera shot. Apparently my beloved other has some serious knowledge about tabloid reporting and other journalistic styles. I wouldn't even need to goad them; **we** just have to lead them to place where we can set up some cameras. Then we can sell the story as Felicia to the Brockton Daily, make some cash, and hopefully ruin the lives of Blackwell, the Trio, and the faculty at Winslow.

…

A girl can dream. This dream is certainly better than the alternative one.

Chances are that whatever I dig up will likely be buried by whoever is keeping my bullying from being dealt with, but the mere opportunity of ruining some Guilty asshole's day is far too good to pass up… even if **we** suspect it's Dad's best friend. Okay, so maybe there isn't any evidence that Alan was shielding Emma or that he has any knowledge of what the **Traitor** has been doing to me but who else has the power and influence to pull it off? Zoe was a housewife through and through and Emma's older sister Anne was taking classes in New York.

Sophia, for all her track star trophies and athletic achievements is a nobody. Her father left her mom when she was kid. Her mom was nothing special in school, simply an athlete like her daughter and dropped out of collage when she got knocked up with Sophia. She still lives in a shabby apartment near the southern edge of the city and works as a waitress at a roadside dinner six miles out of the city. Sophia does have a younger brother who is seven, but unless he's a thinker we can clearly write him off.

John and Margaret Clements are… not what **we** would expect from someone who gave birth to Madison. For all accounts and purposes, they are genuinely good people. Pillars of the community that volunteer at shelters every other week, one of my sources claims. John runs a small novelty bookstore in the Market while Margaret works as a transcriber for the Lord's street courthouse. **We** dug into their financial records and there is nothing sketchy about them.

Which leaves Alan who works at the same office as Carol Dallon of New Wave. He's also friends with one of the mayor's aides and is having an affair with a Dominatrix that goes by the name Frigga. No connection to the E88. If she did, then that could be used to sink his carrier faster than covering for his daughter would. I really don't' want to do that to Zoe and Anne but the Guilty must pay for their crimes.

Speaking of relationships… it's Valentine's Day. Which means I probably won't see Dad today unless he hasn't already left for work.

 **We** sigh as we shift in bed, and action that was closely followed by a whine. Now normally I would attribute that to **our** increased weight straining the bed but there was something particularly cute and not at all metallic about this whine that forced my eyelids to part.

Sitting across the room from me is a large four-legged monstrosity with four sets white eyes looking right at me from the corner of my room. It's head and body are military green while its two front legs and paws are green bordering on black, its right back leg was a vibrant yellow, and its left hind leg is a violet, pink, and black mess. The only thing that stopping me from webbing the creature to the wall was my dear other, who was standing next to it with a proud smile on his face obviously oblivious to the shock that was definitely clear on my face.

 **"** **HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!"** My other shouts in glee. The creature barks like a dog and pounces onto the bed. I was surprised that my 'spider' sense didn't alert me of any danger as it began its barrage of slimy licks with its long, prehensile tongue. The creature shifted shapes, shedding the multicolored look that made it look so alien and replaced it with a large but normal looking German Shepherd.

 **We** almost forgot about our plans for righteous vengeance as **we** wrestled with what was apparently my new dog. In their place were four words… or names in this case that floated happily in their place.

**Lasher**

**Phage**

**Riot**

**Agony**

How the fuck am I supposed to explain the dog to dad?

XxX

A/N: Introducing the all purpose tentacle attacks, she protects and most important of all she's really fun to pet!A little bit of history for those not so into the Marvel universe as I am. Hybrid is the combination of of four of the five Life Foundation Symbiotes. These symbiotes are weaker than their sibling Carnage and their parent Venom.I theorize it is because they weren't 'born' naturally and weren't allowed to find their ideal hosts. Together they make a powerful symbiote called but they can be used separately as shown in the pages of Carnage USA by Mercury Team. War Dog or Lasher, as she comes to be known once Deadpool takes on Carnage.

So what do you think of a peek at Venom's psyche?

Ten Days till Canberra. (In Story)


	4. Mania 1-4

Mania 1.4

The commute to Winslow is boring. Nothing of note ever truly happens on route to hell. It takes a few bus rides to get to the worst high school in the East Coast almost two years running! It would make **us** laugh if it weren't so fucking sad. Dad once said that Winslow was the premier high school when he was growing up… but the only time I ever heard him say that was when Emma didn't have high enough marks to get into Arcadia, Clarendon, or Immaculata… so he may have been lying.

Brockton Bay's public transportation system as a whole is sort of a mixed bag. Buses closer to the tourist heavy areas and the financial district are in good enough shape shape, but the farther you go from that little closed circuit the more noticeable the disrepair becomes… like the bus **we** am currently sitting on. This kind of bus was designed with air conditioning, which doesn't serve much of a purpose in mid-February. However, even with the AC they still stink from the summer and even the chemical stench that the Transport Authority has the gall to call air freshener does little to hide the all too human odor that clung to the bus.

 **We** seriously wish that **we** could swing all the way to Winslow but any sudden and unexplained change in routine could alert certain people that something was wrong. For Example, the Terrible Trio had their hanger-ons watch me since I returned to Winslow. Cassandra Burdick takes the same bus route as me and usually tries to stick to my right side. This might be due an incorrect belief that the coat hanger damaged my vision, or to feel proud of herself for being partially responsible for permanently scarring a fifteen year old.

There's nothing about Cassandra that is especially outstanding. Her hair is coppery blonde with blue eyes and quite a few freckles. She is on the school's track team and a bit of gymnast so she is slim and athletic. To most people she was… sweet, not in the way Madison pretends to be; not a fake kind of niceness,.. just hidden… but she liked to rebel. Her stepfather is a cop, not a nice man nor was he pleasant one, but not dirty cop, which made him better than most of Brockton Bay's police officers.

That isn't to say she isn't a horrible person just because she isn't a total bitch. She willfully helps Sophia with her pranks, looks away whenever the Trio try to dig into me, keeps quiet about the around the clock abuse her cabal like to dish out, and has a Charlie horse competition with Sophia whenever I walked down the halls. It's sad that a decent cop's reputation will suffer for his brat's need for acceptance, but for all **we** know he helped them hush it up.

So **we** will live with the consequences of **our** actions quite well… or as one of my other's previous set memories likes to say: " _The die is cast!"_ I almost chuckle at my own thoughts. I don't know how a power that was born from me can be so creative with these characters.

 **We** brush **our** thoughts away from the long term plan and turn **our** attention to more immediate concerns… like the seventy pounds of fur, muscle, and another hundred- fifty of symbiote that was munching on a chocolate bar in my room. Dad has never been particularly partial to dogs and according to him it was all mom's fault. Apparently my grandfather, mom's dad, had a few dogs around the house, hunting dogs to be precise. The way mom used to tell it dad said something to piss off her father and to make long story short he set his dogs on dad while mom sat at the dinner table laughing. Either way, it didn't seem like dad would be very happy keeping dog, especially such a big one.

 ** _"Leave that to me, Taylor."_** My other tenderly hissed in my mother's voice, I could feel it rubbing its head against **our** cheek. **_"I have ways of making him see things from our… point of view."_** There's a certain hunger in those words that almost makes me shiver but I trust that my other won't go against my wishes and hurt dad. It's my power after all.

When the bus finally comes to a screeching stop **we** are the first to stand and exit vehicle. **We** relish in the relatively fresh Brockton air. Cassandra is hot on my heels but **we** manage to lose her as soon as we mix with a crowd of student's heading in the same direction. Good thing too, 'cause I'm not entirely certain I can stop my other from overreacting if she dared touch **us**.

Okay… I'll admit it. **We're** , no, I'm kind of in a mood but who can blame me? Valentine's day used to be fun! Emma and I used build pillow forts while our parents went out to dinner. Back then dad wasn't so fucking cold, mom was alive, and the freaking world made some kind of sense!

... And I wasn't alone…

…But then again I'm not alone anymore. My other is with me and I know that it loves me as much as I love it. I can trust it to protect me and never betray me like Emma did. Being **Venom** made us complete, two halves of a whole and no matter what happens, whatever the world throws **our** way **we will always be Venom.**

The chill doesn't bother **us,** though I make sure **to act like the cold is bothering me,** shivering a bit beneath a heavy Navy blue jacket that my other says its twin used to wear. **Our** legs are covered by some faded grey baggy pants. **We** clutch a completely black rucksack close to **our** body.

Winslow isn't much too look at, it's a pretty stereotypical high school made from concrete and cracked plaster. The years and the budget allotted to the school had not been kind especially since Leviathan had wrecked the shipping industry. There are three guards in old uniforms standing by the door that will look intimidating for the next hour or so before leaving. It is the illusion of security for the few parents that drop off their kids into the bowels of a corrupt and Guilty institution.

It was unfortunate that my first class of the day was with Mr. Gladly. Since it's Valentine's Day he'll definitely put people in pairs and the last thing **we** want is to do is spend forty minutes paired up with Greg Veder. While Mr. Gladly and half a handful of teachers look at me with pity in their eyes, Greg pushes on with cyberpunk references that he thinks I'm supposed to get because of my haircut. He doesn't do it because he cares, if he did he would be speaking out against **our** tormentors. Greg is only interested in **us** because he knows that **we** are the only person who tolerates his chatter.

Yeah, it isn't pleasant but I've been dealing with this shit for the past few weeks and **we** know it won't get any better. Whatever the Trio have over the faculty made them do nothing in the face of evil.

The first thing I did once I cross the boundary between the rest of the world and Hell is head straight to my locker. The very same locker where **we joined** , and like every time I opened it since the incident **we** can't help but tremble at the storm of emotion it causes my other and I to feel.

Joy, anger, happiness, and revulsion raged within **us**. A conflict that has become to all too familiar since **we** first stepped back into this shit show.

This conflict stems from the duality of. On one hand it was the day that I found my other,, but on the other hand… it was the worst day of my life. Our bond is sacred and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but I can't just forget my trigger. The feeling of desperation coursing through me while bugs slowly ate at my skin and borrowed deep into my body…

 **We** can't stop the shiver that over takes **us**.

My other knows this and it shows. **We** installed a small mirror onto the locker's wall to alert **us** if **our** enemies ever decided to attack me while I was getting my books. My other's essence leaked from my eyes like smeared mascara as **our** eyes became consumed in black. **We** stand there for a minute or two with **our** head hunched forward close to the locker so that no one would see **our** face, breathing deeply to get **ourselves** under control. Once I make sure **we** look presentable, it's onto the Mr. Gladly's class.

I grab a book, I don't see which one, and slam the locker closed and 'dump' my jacket in its place. The hall freezes as they all turn towards me, expecting me to throw a tantrum or breakdown. Since I returned people have been looking at me as if I were some kind of bomb waiting to go off… not that it stopped the Trio from harassing me. Madison had been quiet but Emma and Sofia were especially verbal with their displeasure at my return. The faint smell of lavender was hit my nose like a mallet, sending **our** emotions into frenzy, Emma Barnes had just stepped into the hallway.

"Oh my god, do you think she ever showers?"

"Can she even afford to waste water like that?"

"I don't know." The red haired devil said as she rounded the corner to join her two flunkies. "Why don't we go ask her?"

 **We** don't make it obvious that **we** are making a retreat, but dealing with Emma is so much harder since o **ur** 'spider-sense' begins to tingle and I'm placed on high alert. It grows stronger as I reach the nearest stairwell that will take me to World Issues. I'm almost at the top when **we** spot the source of the danger and even then **we** smell her before **we** see her. It's the smell of hospital soap covering the smell of oil, sweat, and seawater that **we** have come to associate with my second worst tormenter. Sofia Hess stood at the top the stairs flanked by Cassandra and a very nervous looking Charlotte.

Out of the three of them, **we** discard Charlotte as a potential hazard. She isn't here because she wants to be. No, Charlotte is, like most other students in Winslow, a coward looking to fit in. She's scared of the trio and doesn't want them to target her. Cassandra on the other hand has a mean shoulder check but won't escalate unless pushed. She'll probably help Sofia shove me down the stairs if it would piss off her dad.

This just puts **us** at a disadvantage. It would be easy to get one over Sofia with the help of my other and explain it away as luck if she were alone. However, with two athletic teenagers and a witness that would be pressured to testify against me? Those aren't the odds I'm willing to play, and I can't even consider revealing my other.

"Goddammit, Hebert." Cassandra says covering her nose. "You do know what soap is, right?" It's an obvious ploy to get me to look away from Sofia who's looking at **us** like a cat eyeing a canary. So **we** don't, instead I keep my glare firmly set on Sofia, daring her to try something. Unsurprisingly, she does.

She extends her right hand, which is holding a cup of… coffee if I had to make a guess, and proceeds to launch the hot black liquid at me. Side stepping that mess is the easy part. It's making the whole thing look like an accident that's the hard part.

Stumbling isn't natural to **us** anymore. **Our** reflexes scream at me to catch **ourself** by placing another foot in front but I don't. At least until **we** 're past Sophia. Instincts howl, telling me that I shouldn't open **ourself** to attack like this… but there is a reason that I have to do this. Invisible tendrils had used the shadows to circle my second most hated bully. They all have jagged tips meant spear through her at a moment's notice, and as much as I want to it's impossible to fault my other for its reaction.

The idea to crawl into her room and snuff the bitch's life away is so unbelievably tempting. It would be easy to end her pathetic excuse for a life but it would be too fast and too easy. As unheroic as this sounds, **we** want to watch her suffer. To make her watch as the world she built for herself be ripped apart piece by piece, and I want her to know that I played a part in that. Not as Venom, not as Felicia, but as Taylor Hebert.

Sophia eyes widen slightly, but by the time her focus shift from the rapidly descending coffee to me **we** are already past her and greeting Mr. Quinlan with a toothy smile that may as well been showing teeth. The balding math teacher gave me an awkward nod of acknowledgment as he walked past us. **We** aren't surprised that he ignores Sophia and the mess she created in the stairwell. But at least it's clear that they won't get physical while they know that there's a teacher nearby.

 **" _You should have let me skewer her_."** My other grumbled as it threaded its fingers with my own. **" _It would have saved us having to tolerate her continued existence."_**

 _'Heroes are supposed to be better than that.'_ I remind it as **we** walk. _'Sure, she's Guilty but what can she do against us? Sophia is less than a pebble in our shoe now that we have each other. Why endanger our nascent reputation for her when we can't even prove her crimes?'_

A feeling of acceptance flowed through our bond.

Two doors and three sets of vomit green lockerslater and **we** reachMr. Gladly's classroom just as the bell starts to ring. He doesn't seem to notice, too absorbed chatting with Madison and Julia to start class. **We** don't like Mr. Gladly very much. He's the youngest teacher in Winslow, twenty-eight in May. He's shorter than **us** by a good three inches. His completion is pale, which isn't unusual during winter and his hair wavy black. Unlike me, he was sociable and basked in the attention given to him by his adoring suck ups. Without much thought **we** made **our** way to my desk, dropping our rucksack on the floor.

The second bell rang and this time Mr. Gladly laughed as he waved away Madison and Julia and moved to begin the class. For a second, Madison and **our** eyes meet freezing her in place. I don't know if she, unlike Sophia and Emma, can feel **our** hatred but since I had returned to this cesspool of a school the cutesy little shit flinched whenever **we** looked at her with the slightest hint of hostility. Gladly moves to close the door just as Greg manages slip in, like a clumsy eel, and takes his place beside **us**. Because Mr. Gladly loved to pander to the kids he allowed them to chat for the next five minutes.

"Okay, okay settle down." Mr. Gladly says as he drags out a large, black TV from the closet. It is missing several of its buttons and its VCR could very well older than me. He stops in the center of the room, right in front of his desk. "I know it's Valentine's Day and you're all ready to mingle with your crushes but sadly I have to give class." There was an exaggerated 'Aww' from the class followed by some chuckles. "Tragic, I know but perk up because we're going to be watching a movie." A particularly loud "YES!" from Greg overshadowed the multiple murmured "Thanks, God's" that the other students exhaled under their breaths. While well-liked by the more popular members of the student body, Mr. Gladly wasn't a very engaging teacher when it came to things that held no interest to him. So far this year that has include ninety percent of the curriculum as we had trekked through the twentieth century to modernity. For some mysterious reason we had yet to talk about the social impacts of Capes and the emergence of Cape culture.

Both of which are incredibly important to fucking World Issues. I sigh, crossing my arms and preparing myself emotionally for what could possibly be the longest fifty minutes of the day. Gladly popped the video cassette into the VCR and stuck a pencil into the whole where the TV's power button should have been, and to my surprise and interest a grainy image of Legend and Hero sitting side by side in an office overlooking New York's Central Park slowly became visible. Hero sat in his latest, and last, set of blue and gold power armor. He's smiling at the camera in response to a joke that Legend had just told him, or at least that's what the interviewers want us to assume. He had long blond hair that that contrasted his exceedingly tan skin and blue visor covering his eyes. Legend was wearing what people in the know refer to as his 'Golden age' costume. Skin tight with white lighting over blue. His blue domino mask covered the upper part of his face but not his brown hair or the majority of his handsome face.

I could feel wave after wave revulsion coming from my other. **_"He looks like Parker..."_** it growls as if that somehow explains were these emotions are coming from.

 _"The first Endbringer, code named Behemoth, first arose December thirteenth nineteen ninety two in the Khuzestan province in south-western Iran and has been rampaging for the past eight years."_ The interviewer spoke in a disinterred tone as images of rampant destruction appeared in a small box between Legend and Hero, over the small glass coffee table. _"Wherever it goes destruction and death follow in its wake. Cities that it destroys are inhospitable due to the sheer amount of radiation it produces, and Parahumans are unable to kill the beast. Where, in your opinions, do they come from? Why are they doing this? Is there any hope that we can stop it and its brother? "_

_Legend put a hand on his chin, making it clear that he was thinking of an answer, but Hero with his iconic charisma jumped in without a second thought. "We at the Protectorate have our suspicions and theories but there isn't a thinker alive that has any one answer that they can give us with a hundred percent certainty. You see every time one of our thinkers concludes something a dozen more come up to dispute their findings. But the current running theory we have is that Behemoth was once a human that through processes currently unknown, willingly or unwillingly, altered their power to the point that it consumed him."_

" _You honestly believe that monster was, at one point, a Parahuman?"_

_"Not in the strictest sense." Hero responded after a beat. "I believe that someone attempted to induce the Corona Pollentia activation and create a Gemma, or make one from scratch."_

_"So you are of the mind that Behemoth, and by extension Leviathan, are some kind of failed experiment? And the there's no way that this creature can arise naturally? What about monstrous capes or, as the Parahuman Response Team refer to them, 'Case 53's'?"_

_"Case 53, despite their varied appearance, are humans." Legend interjected before Hero could get a word in. "They are victims of circumstance and no way shape or form should be considered or compared to the Behemoth or Leviathan." He spoke clearly and with the appropriate amount of force to close that line of questioning. "The truth is that we have no idea where these beings came from or even if they were ever human. Case 53's are human and more often than not they are exemplar members of society despite the best efforts of **some** to paint them as less than."_

_"I'll say that it is inappropriate for us to comment on the origin of the two 'Endbringers' at this time but what we can say with certainty is that despite the heavy losses that we have suffered at the hands of these creatures the Protectorate stands against them, unified by our humanity. We will not waiver, nor will we allow the innocent to die without fighting these creatures. We will-"_

That's the point when **we** stop listening. I was five the first time this aired and I had watched it dutifully with Mom's arms around me. I know that Legend talks about hope and responsibility for the next twenty minutes and Hero chimes in a few time in an effort to make it look like Legend hadn't just shut him up. They will mention that they are taking steps to develop countermeasures for the Endbringers, but it's been ten years and whatever they were coming up with is either still in development or dead, along with Hero.

XxX

Five classes later and **we** are sitting at an empty table in the middle of the lunchroom staring at what was supposedly a sloppy Joe. There is a metallic tray that used to be covered with mashed potatoes, greyish gravy, corn, and a chocolate pudding cup on the side. All that remains is the patty composed of an unknown pink substance between two slices of bread that my other has trouble identifying. **We** had devoured everything but the supposed meat. It wasn't that **we** are worried that it will poison **us,** myother can break it down… it's that neither one of us wants to have that inside **our** body.

**"It's partially biological but… I don't know what spawned- she's coming this way."**

Looking up from today's mystery meat and refocusing on **our** surroundings, it's pretty easy to hear Sophia coming up from behind while Cassandra walks towards **us.** They are the only pretty girls heading this way not flanked by gang prospects. Like always there is something cruel in her eyes that puts **us** on edge. It's animalistic **but at the same time it doesn't worry us because when it comes down to it we are the apex predator in this environment.**

It takes every ounce of my restraint not to sigh as Sophia approached that at any moment my other can deal with my bullies in a way that it will never be linked to any of my personas, I know it's true, but that doesn't mean **we** will. **We** are going to be a great hero and that means that with great power-

**'Don't you DARE finish that thought!'**

Okay…

"Blackwell wants to see you, Hebert." Cassandra says mockingly and she looks so fucking pleased playing the messenger for the old crone. "I think she wants to talk about throwing coffee down the stairs." **We** shoot her a scathing glare before shifting into a smirk. **We** stood up, always facing Cassandra.

"You have to tell me, Cassie, how does it feel to always be bait?" My other keeps an "eye" on Sophia whose two tables away and grinning. "or the messenger? 'Cause that's pretty much what you are to them." She looks outraged at **our** implication; questioning friendship gets teenagers up in arms faster than almost any insult. **We** continue before she cans speak. "They'll get bored of you sooner rather than later, you know. I heard Julia telling Evan about that convict daddy of yours." Bringing up family that's no longer here hurts. Doesn't matter if they're dead or in prison.

Denial.

"Watch it, Hebert." She scoffs. "As much of an attention whore as you are, I didn't peg you for a liar."

"Why would I lie about that?" I say picking up my stuff. "You don't matter enough to me to waste the energy. I was just warning a future pariah-."

Hurt followed by anger.

"Shut the fuck up, Hebert!" She growls while clenching her fists. "Sophia would never let Emma do that!"

It's my turn to scoff. "Look, like I said before; I thought you needed a friendly warning before it happened. Clearly it would have been better to leave you ignorant..." I sling the rucksack over **our** shoulder. "…and let Emma and Sophia do what they do best." I pat down my clothes as if checking that **we** hadn't dropped anything.

Sadness.

"You don't know what you're talking about." She insists, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "Sophia is my best friend, you bitch." And yet you're buying what **we're** selling.

I don't have to fake being insulted by her little comment, I genuinely am. "And I thought Emma was mine."

"Bullshit, Emma-"

"Knows secrets that no one else is supposed to know. Things I never told my own father, but fuck it if you deserve each other, Lang" Betrayal flashes, horror dawns across her face and I can't believe how convenient it is to have the memories of investigative journalist in **our** head. **We** can see when she starts to rationalize. She's drawing comparisons and not liking what she sees.

It's all moving so quickly that she's stuck in place when Sophia finally reaches my table and strikes. **We** move to the side just as her knee is about crash **our** thigh. It probably would have hurt her more if I hadn't moved. My other would have made sure of that. Sophia's knee made contact with the rubber covered metal grate but surprisingly that doesn't have my complete attention. Her yelp is drowned out my alarmed gasp as I followed a nearly invisible tendril that originated from **our** butchered hair and is currently loosely coiled around Cassandra's neck.

My other oozed glee while watching Sophia clutch her wounded knee, but I didn't sense any hostility towards Cassandra... well not enough that it would go against my wishes and try to kill someone when **we've** worked so hard to keep criminals alive.

No, this is something else entirely.

I don't know why it would want to touch- and then I remember exactly what my other said on the bus. ** _"I have ways of making him see things from our… point of view"._** I know for a fact that teenagers aren't the most rational bunch, but there's just no way that anyone would believe me over their best friend without any real evidence, but… God… **we** are a Master.

I will the tendril back and make **our** waypast the quickly amassing students. _'You and I are going to have a very serious talk later.'_ Blackwell can wait until after **we** sort out whatever other powers my beloved other has been hiding from me.

 ** _'It's not Mastering!'_** It defends as it perches itself on my shoulder. **_'it's thought implanting. Your lie wouldn't have worked unless I gave it a little push.'_**

 _'You know that's not what's bothering me!"_ I almost snarl. **We** push past the green doors of the lunchroom and into the winding hallways with identical locker on each side of the walls, some tagged and others with a fresh coat of paint. _'You were going to use it on Dad without telling me!'_

My other grows quiet and guilt floods our bond. It's almost enough to make me forgive It on the spot.

 **We** pass Ms. Knott's computer room without being noticed by any members of the faculty, and right by the principal's office going similarly unnoticed. From there it's a straight shot to the exit, to find a place where it doesn't feel like **we're** trapped

XxX

The Boardwalk is peaceful during winter. There aren't as many tourists as there are in the summer months, when tourism peaks, and it's a weekday so there aren't as many lovey-dovey couple sucking face and buying expensive jewelry. **We're** here as Felicia because there is no way that the local guards/muscle would let a scarred kid like me wander around the Boardwalk without either checking my wallet or a calling a truancy officer to come pick **us** up.

Felicia looks high class, moves like a socialite, and knows what buttons you have to press to get what **we** want. It's a shame that my other never created memories of bonding with her so we have to mimic it all from an outside perspective. Its not hard but… there's a disconnect between **us** pretending to be Felicia and… well being Felicia.

…

I know it's not right… and that wanting to be someone else isn't healthy but… it's like reading a good book. It's an escape from a dull reality and a chance to be someone else.

Heh.

It's sad.

 **We** spent so much time wanting to be a hero and now that I am one I want to wear a mask all the time. As Taylor, I have no friends, no home in a few years' time, when I'm out of Winslow, but that doesn't really help **us** now.

But enough, **we** can't spend the day throwing a pity party.

The Boardwalk is one of the safest places to be in Brockton Bay and best kept since it doesn't strictly rely on the local government for upkeep. Like the Market, visitors and locals can see the PRT ENE Headquarters looming over the city like an ineffective guardian angel.

Nothing much happens in the Boardwalk because no one is stupid enough to piss of both the Protectorate to the East and the neighboring Lung to the West.

_*Boom! Boom! Boom!*_

**Our** 'spider'-sense goes wild as an armored green figure soars through the air. It crashes against a guard-rail, denting it before the figure tilts precariously towards the water, nearly falling in. The remains of its gun clatter at my feet while an deafening roar shakes the wooden planks of the Boardwalk. Screams erupt from the Boardwalk's sparse occupants as three more explosions draw closer. Another roar confirms that it isn't Lung going up against some newbie cape. It doesn't sound like the Dragon of Kyushu in the slightest. **We** have seen enough of his bitch fits on the news to know what he sounds like.

 **We** examine the remains of the gun for any clues to see what **we're** up against and all we can really tell is that it looks advanced enough to be tinkertech, but that's all **we** can say with any certainty. It's large and thick, about half the size of the green armored guy currently knocked out besides us. The letters BFG are neatly printed on the side.

 **We're** grown up enough to admit when **we're** wrong. Someone is stupid enough.

Another three explosions detonate close to **us** sending clouds of debris into the air, providing **us** cover to change into **our** more natural form. It's liberating to be back in black after a day of bullshit. Tendrils of **our** long flowing hair snake around Green's leg and drag him away from danger as **we** wait for the cloud to disperse and see what we're up against.

Another roar later and we got a clear enough view to know that this is our big break.

Twenty feet tall of horned monstrosity stood on the street with its left hand replaced with what could only be a rocket launcher and the other glowed red with what we can assume is some sort of energy cannon. It was pinkish and covered in a mix of natural armored scales and machinery that worked like armor. It saw **us** huddled over the weapon and charged, accelerating faster than what I would expect from a creature of that size.

 **"Eddie loved this game!"** My other chirped happily using **our** mouth.

 _'What!? This is from a game!?'_ Which means that greenie is either Uber or Leet and that this thing is being recorded/broadcasted makes **us** grin as **we** crouch down. **Our** hair becomes jagged like spools of fishing line and **our** fingers become claws. Small spikes sprout from **our** joints as **we** coil our muscles to attack.

 **"It's time to fight like Hell!"** **We** roar back as we scramble to meet the demon's charge!

XxX

A/N: All praise the BFG!

Okay, now that's out of the way and before anyone tries to crucify me. Yes, that is Cassie Lang, the adorable ball of Fluff from the Ant-Man movies. Sharp eyes if you noticed that before the Author's Note if not, well did base her off the comic book so there's that. She's gonna play a role like to Kong to Sophia's Flash from the Ultimate universe.

Origins of the Cyberdemon will be revealed next chapter but speculation is always welcome.

Share your thoughts in a review!


	5. Interlude 1.x

Interlude 1.X

(Uber)

Teetering at the edge of the Boardwalk, resting on a dented metal rail, Uber watched in horror as an unknown cape flung herself at Doom's coolest boss… but the fear wasn't for the sake of the newbie, no, he was scared of her. There was something primal within Uber that urged him to move away. To run, if he could and hide, if he couldn't. Sadly, he could do neither as his damaged green Doom Slayer armor had entered emergency Armor Lock in an effort to keep him alive after taking both the Cyberdemon's rocket barrage and laser cannon simultaneously to the face.

This measure was designed for when Lung decided to intervene with the heist but Uber would definitely prefer facing down Lung than standing next to lithe black and white monstrosity crouching a few feet away from him. She was tall, nearly or over, six feet tall. Large white eyes rested above an inhuman grin laden with rows upon rows of sharp teeth. Her hair had initially looked like strands of thin black string but now they were like a cross of fishhooks and security wire. Spike like blades sprouted from different points of her body, her fingers became slightly more elongated and infinitely sharper.

She had an androgynous look going for her, which if it weren't for the fact that he had caught a glimpse of her body before she had shifted Uber would definitely called the tentacled nightmare a he.

But it was the large white spider that covers her rather flat chest and most of her upper back that brought the fear in him to new heights. Uber hated spiders with a passion. Those eight-legged freaks always seemed to find a way to sneak up on him when he was in the bathroom but that logo… just brought it to another level. There were no non-threatening curves, no effort to hide the message of intimidation, and no way to disguise the slight zebra pattern where the legs connected over her ribs.

It kind of sent a message when you could be confused as Nega-Siberian.

 **"It's time to fight like Hell!"** The voice was wrong, like something out of his nightmares. A symphony of voices weaved into one yet obviously individualistic. There was anger in there but the amusement drowned it out, as if she were happy that she was about to face something capable of punting two ton power armor across eighty feet.

With that Nega-Siberian flung herself through the air like something out a comic. Dodging the rockets with the practiced ease of a Thinker/Mover combo. She danced and twirled impossibly as she moved closer to Blasto's liberal interpretation of one of Doom's signature bosses. White webs pulled her closer while also creating a barrier to slow the Cyberdemon down. But she never aimed it at the Tinker tech monster directly. No, if the webs she produced were made out of actual silk they may have had a chance of stopping it in its tracks but she wasn't even going to try.

Why would she when she was clearly intent on trapping it in her white web? In less than eight seconds, she had created a makeshift arena by using the buildings as turnbuckles. Uber wasn't sure if Nega-Siberian was playing with the Cyberdemon, which was thrashing wildly, or if it was in an effort to protect the screaming public.

Oh, yeah.

There were still people screaming and pointing but only a few were smart enough to runaway instead of letting their curiosity root them in place. They pointed and aimed their phones at the fight. The residents of Brockton Bay really were a special kind of stupid; at least he had powers that helped keep him and Leet alive.

Uber, in his current state, couldn't even move to warn them away when it raised its cannon in an attempt to target easier prey but it turned out that he didn't need to. Nega-Siberian flipped high above the Cyberdemon's head and used her webs to launch herself downwards, feet first into the cannon. The fusion of metal and flesh crumpled under the force and for the first time since its creation Uber heard the Cyberdemon roar in pain. It was a sickening sound that only seemed to excite Nega-Siberian as she stopped strengthening her web and went on a brutal offensive.

The Cyberdemon flailed as she jumped onto it and she began to dig into its body. It wasn't an explosion of gore as much as it was a shower of it. Red blood and guts, all redundant, flowed from the human shaped hole in its stomach… but not as much as it was supposed to… Leet had wanted to capture the gore effect of the game without spending too much cash on a multitude of demons, so the Cyberdemon's defeat was supposed to be spectacularly bloody.

The monster fell to its knees, trying to clutch it open wound, it shook for a solid minute before roaring one last time in pure agony. Blood trickled down from its toothy maw.

Then it stopped as if there were something caught in its throat.

Uber would have liked to say that he was prepared for Nega-Siberian pulling an _Aliens: Resurrection_ but that would have been a lie. Black tendrils sprouted from the Cyberdemon's mouth, stopping the flow of blood _,_ then there was a cracking as the was pried further and further away from the roof of the mouth. Three seconds later Nega-Siberian 's torso poked out and her wire like hair was even longer. There was no blood on her, she looked as clean as she did before she began ripping away at the Cyberdemon.

She looked around for a second, basking in the glory of the kill, before aiming am arm into the air and pointing it at one of Leet's newer Snitches, a completely redesigned drone that looked like the gun upgrade bots from Aleph's Doom remake. She closed her hand into a fist, and from the back of it a line of web shot out hitting the camera. With a tug she pulled it towards her as she freed herself from the Cyberdemon, caching it in a clawed hand.

 **"Little Parasites."** She hissed as she walked closer to Uber. Each step causing his heart to beat faster than he thought possible. **"You enjoy their fear, don't you?"** No matter much he wanted to refute that statement the Armor Lock wouldn't allow him to move his jaw enough to speak so he had to listen to her his into the camera. **"Clearly the punishments that you have suffered have been too lax, limited by an uncaring criminal justice system, but do not worry."** At this point she was kneeling at his feet holding the snitch to his visored face. Uber closed his eyes when a long pink tongue dragged itself over his helmet.

Her reflection clearly visible on his HUD.

 **"We are only limited by the boundaries of our vivid imagination. We are Venom and we will not tolerate this action in OUR city, you have been warned."** With that he was shoved and the rail gave way.

-thwip-

The sensation of falling was terrifying but not as much as the idea that he was going to drown because of a stupid stunt that he and Leet had come up with for kicks. He heard a splash and knew that death was close.

…

Minutes passed but nothing happened. By this point water should have entered the suit, depriving him of oxygen but he was fine, he could breathe. Uber tentatively opened his eyes and saw the crumpled remains of the snitch floating in the water less then a foot away from him but not drawing any closer.

With a weak chuckle Uber promptly fainted while hanging off the Boardwalk's edge.

XxX

A/N: Sorry for the delay but between returning to college from summer break and studiying for my LSAT i really didn't have ime to write. Sorry if this is too short for your liking but i like to keep interludes short unless they need to be as long as a regular chapter.


	6. Interlude 1.y

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**♦ Topic: My knight in black armor:**

**In: Boards ► Messages ► America ► Brockton Bay**

**Impbynight** (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)

Posted On February 13th 2011:

Yo Venom, sorry for bailing! But big bro was being kind of a bitch and his girlfriend isn’t being much better! The way you dealt with those Merchants was legit!!!!!!!! Xb Keep up the good work! We’ll be seeing each other a lot! 

 

 

Description: at least six feet tall, lean like a scarecrow, hair that defies the wind, nice smile,  full black body suit with white and a kick ass white spider! If you see her send her to this thread! [LINK]

 

 

EDIT: Looking to team up? We’ll have blackjack and chocolate milkshakes!

 

 

EDIT: First Venom thread on PHO. First! Wooooooo!!

 

 

EDIT: You awesome bitch You killed the Cyberdemon! My big bro couldn’t kill that bastard in game and you did it in IRL! PM Pls!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! [LINK]

 

 

**►** White Fairy (Veteran Member)

 

Replied On February 13th 2011:

 

…

 

Not sure if this is real or click bait but I’ll leave that to people in the know.

 

 

Edit: First!

 

 

**►** XxVoid_CowboyxX

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

Dudes I was totally there eating a burger when the Merchants crossed the street. He came out of nowhere and shot them up and then ran like hell before the cops showed up.

 

 

**►** Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

Void, did you just watch the random parts of the video? My GIRL, I know ‘cause I talked to her before it all went down, didn’t shoot the merchants! She just gave them their bullets back. Go to sleep you troll!

 

 

 ► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

Impbynight, are you sure ‘your girl’ is a hero? She was pretty brutal for some punks with guns.

 

 

► Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

Rich coming from you, Collateral Damage Barbie, last week you splintered an E88 gangbanger’s arm. Splintered if Panacea hadn’t ben there that asshole wouldn’t have regained its full function!

 

 

► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

That is an unsupported rumor but we literally have Venom on video brutalizing gangmemebers.

 

 

►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

That’s not entirely true. There’s that video of you dropping a Archer’s bridge Merchant from a significant height, breaking his legs, The only difference between both situations is that Venom did it combat while you were trying rip off Earth Aleph’s Batman. You are lucky enough that New Wave is clean and respectable enough to have gotten away with your use of excessive force. At least Shadow Stalker is only ‘rumored’ to have crucified a E88 initiate.

 

 

For more information on this story check out the Brockton Daily! (SHADOW STALKER: THREAT OR MENACE?!) (GLORY NO MORE? INDEPTH LOOK AT NEW WAVE’S BIGGEST BRUTE!)

 

 

@ Impbynight PM later. We can chat about the details.    

 

 

Edit: This account is in no way affiliated with the Brockton Daily… I just like to read.

 

 

► Impbynight (Original Poster) (Unverified Menace)

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

**…**

 

SS is a bitch but I’m keeping my tag. @Mrs. Sym thanks for backing me up!

 

 

► Glory Girl (Verified Cape) (New Wave)

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

You are using a tabloid to justify the actions of a dangerous vigilante. I’m done with this.

 

 

►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)

 

Replied On February 14th 2011:

 

[USER=61763]Glory[/USER] Girl the fact that you don’t agree with the publication makes it no less accurate and while I am sure that your intentions are pure your delivery method is make you sound hypocritical at best and malignant a t worst. As it stands, Venom could have her reasons for acting the way she did. New trigger, agitated Case 53, extra dimensional alien, or simply a cape that had another bad day.   

 

 

**Page 1  2 3 4 5 … 47**

 

 

 

** XxX **

 

 

 

**♦ Topic: New Cape in the Bay**

 

**In: Boards ► News ► Events ►America**

 

Bagrat (Veteran Member) (The Guy in the Know) (Original Poster)

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

By now all of you have seen the video. First things first; Uber is alive and well in PRT custody but the ‘Cyberdemon’ is completely wrecked. It’s hollowed out like a pumpkin but good news is that this was one of Blasto’s hybrids commissioned by Uber and Leet not a new Case 53 roped into the gamer duo’s antics. I’ve been told by a reliable source that the local PRT are treating the self-named Venom as a Case 53 with a strong Brute rating, weak Mover rating, with a dash of Changer.

 

 

On September 13th Venom’s web was found on the broken bodies of three ABB member’s broken bodies in an alleyway near the Docks. One of which was missing part of their hand. Minutes later Venom is recorded defending Fugly Bob’s from a Merchant assault, leaving at least half the members severely injured. Panacea had to be called in for both cases.

 

 

You know what happened the next day.

 

 

Venom is to be considered extremely dangerous.

 

 

Do not approach.

 

 

If spotted contact the PRT hotline and retreat to a safe distance.  

 

 

►Judge

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

I’m gonna get ahead of this and warn you all to keep on topic. This board is reserved for power discussion and sightings of Venom. Identity speculation is strictly prohibited and please try to avoid speculation in general.

 

 

Our goal here isn’t to cause mass panic.

 

 

►Morgan Sinister

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

That’s hard to do considering the limited information we have on Venom. So far we’ve seen him shoot some kind of web like liquid from the back of his hand that solidifies as soon as it impacts a target. He ripped and tore into the Cyberdemon like it was tissue paper and destroyed Leet’s Snitch, which was supposed to be indestructible (according to Leet). The web was strong enough to encircle the Cyberdemon

 

 

►Xyloloup

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

Why the spider? Creep.

 

 

►DestituteRonin

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

I want to add that there wasn’t any blood on Venom after killing the Cyberdemon… and the hair looks longer. Organic matter conversion could be a possible power?

 

 

**►** XxVoid_CowboyxX

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

Saw Venom perched on a tree eating a bird. Some spiders in south America do this. Are cape spiders a thing?

 

 

► Impbynight (Unverified Menace)

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

Pics or it didn’t happen. [USER=344806]Bagrat[/USER] Venom is a she and she’s only dangerous to dangerous ppl. Merchants were gonna hold up Fugly Bob’s. She kicked their asses after they decided to shoot up the place.

 

 

►Vista (Verified Cape) (Wards ENE)

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

Hwy @Impbynight if you manage to get in contact with Venom please tell her to pass by the PRT building. Most Case 53’s are disoriented when they first pop up and the PRT has resources to help them out and even offer shelter.

 

 

►Mrs. Sym (Unverified Biote)

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

Don’t do it. the Parahuman Response Team will Strong arm into the organization you or worse.

 

 

►Judge

 

Posted On February 15th 2011:

 

@ Mrs. Sym I’m going to let you of with an infraction for your post. Idk what your problem with the PRT is and frankly I don’t want to know, the fact of the matter is that they are offering an olive branch to a violent cape.

 

 

Don’t interfere.  

 

 

 

** XxX **

 

A/N: Man... this was a bit of pain to make so i hope you enjoy it! I'll try to get the next chapter out by next week, if this week goes well, if not well... i'll try my best.

 

Please leave comment! i love reading feedback especially when it points out something that i have overlooked.

 

see you next time!


	7. Touch 2.1

"The world was on fire and no one could save me but you." **We** sing under our breath. "It's strange what desire will make foolish people do. " I can honestly say that I've never heard this song but the tune in **our** head was nice and catchy. "Cause I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you" There isn't any particular reason that **we're** mumbling through the verses there just nothing to do right now except wait. "No, I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you."

In the days following **our** début **we** have learned a few things.

The first thing **we** discovered was that **we** are being followed. Someone has been tracking the broken Merchant bodies that we have left behind in **our** wake. The person following **us** is female, or at least appears to be. _It_ is dressed like a clown, white and gold striped stalking, baggy pants held up by thick leather straps. _It_ would crouch down next to the Merchant's downed form and asks about what **we** were told and what **we** asked. The merchants, too afraid due to our earlier encounter, would usually answer truthfully. This unknown Parahuman reminded my shadow of woman called Mary and that worried my other. **We** didn't confront the cape just incase this was some devious plot orchestrated by some mastermind type villain.

It's always better to allow them to dig their own graves. Less clean up that way.

The second is unsurprisingly connected to the first; the Merchants **we** interrogated claimed that the higher ups are planning a heist somewhere Downtown… that was all we were able to uncover… well that's not necessarily true… it's supposed to go down today.

The third discovery actually surprised me despite my other's nonchalance. The PRT pulled all stops to blast **us** for **our** handling of the "DOOM' incident. Apparently dealing with something quickly and efficiently makes **us** fucking dangerous. Piggot, director of Brockton's branch, called us unhinged and Armsmaster gave a detailed report about **our** psyche out of my declaration of intent. He stated that **we're** suffering from dissociative identity disorder because **we** used we and our. There were also a few conspiracy theorists that on PHO that drew parallels with Siberian and The Butcher, which from an intimidation point of view but not very heroic. The heroes didn't comment on this, which pretty much confirmed the aluminum hat wearing loser's suspicions about **us**.

I'm so thankful that I never made a PHO account. The Internet really does rot your brain.

In the days after **our** first official outing as Venom and the PRT's attempted character assassination **we** became rather busy. Ants came out of the woodwork in small insignificant attempts at discrediting **us.** **We** have yet to encounter any villainous capes just powerless underlings that tried their best to make **us** want to **EAT THEIR EMPTY BRAINS!**

**We** take a deep, calming breath.

**We** don't mean that, not literally at least.. **.** but the sentiment…

Though I disagree with my other's wording… I sort of agree. **We** felt like a fucking maid! It felt like **we've** been stopping crime every five minutes. ABB, Merchants, E88, and dumb punks that don't think that **we** 're watching all of them seemed exited to face **us**. To quote one of these little **turds** " _You ain't hot shit, motherfucker."_ Defiance and stupidity appear to be the pre dominant thoughts that all gang members shared.

The fourth discover is as sad as it is flattering. Now I want to make it clear that **we** never intended to uncover just how desperate single people were when someone like Felicia walked past them. Vendors gave **us** heart shaped boxed chocolate, various men and one particularly brave woman gifted us flowers, and there were plenty of benefactors in various cafes who fed our thirst for hot chocolate but as much as **we** enjoyed the attention… it quickly grows rather irksome.

Lastly **our** spectacular discovery was made earlier the day before last. Shortly after Valentine's Day stores try to dump their chocolate stock! Sales upon sales helped relieve some of the constant stress on my wallet.

Eating for two isn't cheap. "The wicked games you play. To make me feel this-"

Which is why **we** are currently standing in line in a speck of a convenience store off McFarlane Way about three blocks from Arcadia and a few more from Brockton Central. Normally **we** wouldn't walk this far to buy some food but **we** have business in this district.

As **we** stand in line with bundles of heart shaped boxes, neatly stacked in deep blue plastic basket, and a bag of frozen tatter tots we notice the man standing behind **us**. He is tall, slightly muscular, with a goofy grin on his face that makes **us** want to smack it right off with one powerful slap. He's about thirty, give or take a few years. His fiery red hair is spiky, like some punk rocker wannabe, that didn't quite fit for someone of his age. He has his phone glued to his ear as he talked with someone he semi-constantly cooed ' _Puppy'_.

He doesn't really smell out of place but there was something about him that makes **us** weary. His focus isn't on the cashier, on **us,** or even in the passionate conversation he was currently having instead his gaze and body language seemed to be absorbed by the girl. It isn't threatening, at least, it reminds **us** more of a bodyguard rather than a future kidnapper… but then again, **we** might just be overthinking it. The man is more likely to be some kidn of military instead of a kidnapper in this part of town.

It might be the way he stands, appearing relaxed to the untrained observer but **we** are not so inexperienced. He doesn't stand like a soldier or like a cop but he is ready for anything non-the less. He reminds **us** of someone from my other's imagination but those are murky so **we** ignore them. Or perhaps my other simply dislikes their voice.

It is a petty reason but I do not blame my shadow.

**We** turn our attention to the girl standing in front of **us**. She is shorter than **us** in as Taylor but looks much smaller because she hunches over. **We** can't see her face from our spot behind her as her frizzy brown hair covered the side of her face **.** She is dressed in bland colors of Arcadia, it's a modest uniform, different shades of gray compliment each other and looks rather comfy for the winter months. She smells like **our** old hospital room and nicotine… judging by the lack of items in her hands **we** can conclude that she is going to feed her habit.

**_'We should help her.'_** My other said as it popped atop the cash register. It was a skinny thing but the smile it sent **our** way was very endearing. Our vision flooded with images of a woman with died white hair that wasn't Felicia. I could feel sympathy for the girl. Jenna Cole was her name; she was stubborn and foul-mouthed but had a good heart. She had helped the one my other called Eddie takes down a whole cartel before her untimely death somewhere in Mexico. **_'She is Innocent, Taylor. We must save her!"_**

The emotions that **we** are feeling… are pure but **we** have no clue how to engage the problem. Addiction is a black hole that is nearly impossible to escape from, I mean look at dad, either he's working or he's drinking which leaves **us** with no avenue for intervention. Now how the hell are **we** supposed to help her? A girl we have never talked to or ran into before needs a personal touch… sadly, there are nothing **we** can do for her.

Confusion floods me because there is something inside **us** can **h** elp her despite my assertion that there was no way **we** could. Smoking, like drugs, can't be broken just because of a onetime intervention by a stranger, never mind that as Venom **we** don't have the reputation make those kinds of suggestions.

**'We can, Taylor!'** My other refuses stubbornly but he suddenly stills. It turns its head towards the door and bares its teeth menacingly. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to understand what's about to happen but it does put **us** in a rather tough spot. **We** can't just change into **our** -

' **Move back.'** It hisses in my mother's voice. **'Act like you're going to grab a soda, someone's coming!' We** don't hesitate to do as my other suggests, moving past the chatting man on his phone and hid behind a Mouse Protector cut out next to the cold fridges. With a chime of the doorbell three skinheads walked in each brandishing one visible weapon, a bat, a chain, and a bowie knife. The man on his phone tensed almost immediately and moved to intercept them before they could reach the mousy girl.

The skinheads aren't nervous; they've probably done this kind of shakedown a thousand times, intimidating small business owners for the own gains and chipping away at any hope of a better life that these people strive to create. They are a plague that eats away at the foundation of society from within! It's self-replicating virus. They drag those around them to their level and those infected spread it to others commencing a slow decay that needs to be **PURGED** before they turn the whole city necrotic **.**

Marquis used to be the stopgap for Brocton Bay. He was curbed the worst of the worst in this city, repelled the Slaughterhouse Nine, and drove the Teeth out of **our** home. Marquis represented a time when crime was organized, targeted, and tended to leave the Innocents alone… unless they wanted his protection. Under Marquis the drug trade was kept away from schools, and the majority of casualties of Parahuman-on-Parahuman violence were Parahumans.

The number of Innocents that Marquis could potentially save outweighed the Guilt of his crimes. It is simple calculus; you don't remove the most effective tool in your arsenal just because it makes you look ineffective. Yet the heroes had scales covering their eyes. In the final days of Marquis's reign the Brockton Bay Brigade focused exclusively on him allowing worse parasites like Allfather.

It is disgusting, **we** know, having to pick between evil. Many will fault **us** for **our** way of thinking. Even now as **we** crawl up the wall and onto the off white ceiling I can't help but remember the words my mom read to me months before her accident.

_"Lesser, greater, middling, it's all the same. Proportions are negotiated, boundaries blurred. I'm not a pious hermit; I haven't done only good in my life. But if I'm to choose between one evil and_ another _, then I prefer not to choose at all."_

**We** disagree. Inaction is the same as guilt. After all…

**We were innocent once…**

"It's that time of the month again, Castiglione." The apparent head skinhead demands shoving the brown haired girl back and puling out a shiny grey revolver. The old man behind the cashier glares at him with but starts reaching for something under the counter. For a second **we** think Mister Castiglione is going to pull a gun and blast him away but instead, much to **our** disappointment, he pulls out a bright manila envelope.

**Our** attention drifts monetarily to the man that had been behind **us.** Two of the Nazi **filth** has him pinned onto a shelf.

You know… it's funny, watching a holdup while hanging upside down from the ceiling. It's almost a surreal experience, one moment you're waiting to pay for chocolate and the very next three skinheads with chains, bats, and a gun march into a convenience store like they own the place. They have no idea what's coming for them.

They don't notice me; instead they focus on Mister Castiglione. The wrinkly old cashier that had manned this small convenience store since my dad was a kid. He had come to Brockton Bay five years before Scion first showed himself. He had survived every gang that had tried to bring him down but he was older now and couldn't swing a bat the someway anymore but there is no need to fear.

**We** are here to protect the Innocent after all.

Invisible tendrils wrap around the two skinhead by their necks and immediately yank them into the air quicker than their brains can register the weightless sensation and then **we** them into the fridges where **we** had originally hid. The shattering of glass made the last skinhead turn and blindly fired.

Two shots escape the chamber before **we** realize our mistake. **Our** eyes widen in horror as thick stream of red arterial spray of blood erupted from the brown haired girl's neck and her body crumples like a puppet with cut strings. **We** launch ourselves at him before he can turn the gun on the red haired man.

We barely register his scream when wrap our hand over his wrist and squeeze.

My shadow drinks the blood that seeps from the mangled remains of his weapon and his hand, absorbs the muscle and bone. With each agonizing second **we** grow stronger while the Guilty grows weaker.

_"We just ate that dude's arm!'_

' **F _uel in the tank, Taylor, fuel in the tank!_ '**

He looks at us with terror in his eyes that would have mirrored **our** own just a few scant moments ago. **"You thought yourself a hero, didn't you?"** **We** hiss digging deeper taking more. One moment of contemplation later **we** shake our head. " **No, you didn't. You never wanted to be a white knight or a soldier for a righteous cause. You just wanted a vent for your anger, your rage, and your hatred because you wanted to make the world pay for every thing it has taken for you. Do you honestly believe that you're the only one that's been hurt?"** We lift him up by the stump of his arm and snarl. **Who hates this world?"** Wait, what? **Who's suffered?!** "

With his free hand he tries to claw himself free. " **Answer US!"** His nails break against our skin.

He doesn't answer, so **we** march him to his friend and run his face through a plate of glass.

Once.

Then again.

And again.

Until he stops moving but he will not die. He'll live but with scars from that will remind him what it's like to suffer like those Innocents who have suffered because of him. He will be better for it or he will be seeing **us** again, soon **.** **We** drop his still bleeding mess of a body with a huff of disgust and our attention turn to the red haired man and the dying girl **.**

The man kneeled over the girl, hand on her neck and phone long forgotten. His face is an easygoing mask but the tension is there. The wound to the neck is lethal unless they have Panacea on speed dial. Comforting and teasing words spill out of his mouth like a waterfall. Well, at least Arcadia isn't that far…

"Holy shit!" **We** look away from the victims and lo and behold there is a cape standing over a puddle of blood. The cape is obviously female… her costume was rather skintight black cat suit, like those of a stereotypical femme fatale … goddammit Felicia. The voice is familiar even though **we** can't place it, at least, not muffled by that mockery of **our** face. The cape has clearly modeled part of her costume to match **ours** as there is a large white spider covering her chest. Her mask looks like **us** when **we** keep **our** mouth shut **,** white glassy eyes and everything.

**'** _We have a fan…'_ I tell my shadow dryly, as we shifted our attention back to the bleeding girl. Looking closer it is clear to **us** that moving her will only worsen her condition. She lost too much blood and there's no telling what kind of damage the second bullet did to chest. **We** look at the red haired man's bloody hand pressing on her neck while the other puts pressure on her chest. **There** is nothing we can do!

**'Yes, there is.'** Without warning my hair shoots out like a blanket and begins to cover the girl from head toe while my arms push the man back. As soon as **our** hair bundled itself around her like a blanket **we** felt her pain as if it is **our** own. Then came the weight of emotion, years of self-hatred, scathing looks, and mental manipulation by exterior force that inspired adoration and fear, but most of all there was an overwhelming sense of relief. As if her death would be a release. From every crushing expectation, from the cold eyes of a woman pretending to be a mother, of a vacant eyed father who she knows she could fix but fear of self stops her, and from an inappropriate desire from he beautiful sister.

She remembers a time before all this but not well. A pearl pink princess dress and tea parties with a handsome man with the same brown hair. I remember the comforting smell of cigars covering something vaguely metallic. I remember being Amelia…

The connection isn't one way though much to **our** ire. She sees **us** at **our** best as often **she** as at worst. Every dark impulse share between my shadow and me, every action we could have taken to pacify **our** enemies quicker and less violently than **we** handled them but **we** don't regret **our** actions. Showmanship, pain and, fear are the languages that these barbarians speak. Showmanship allows the masses to digest even our most brutal attack. Fear justifies our brutality because it spreads like a virus; it's a useful tool after all. The PRT uses it and the gangs use it for their own purposes… violence just pulls it all together in a neat package. Amelia understand this too despite how much she hates it.

But not for the reasons most would think.

Amelia hates when _they_ make her work on Guilty filth like this.

**Our** connection deepens for every second that passes as my other flushes the every poison in her system. Thoughts become clearer as **we** take more and more weight onto our shoulders… except for…

There is something else **…**

**…Another Seed**?

**(Shaper )**

**"AHHHHH!"** We scream in pure agony, both her and I, as that inhuman word echoed through our minds. It lasts for a good three second before it stops and **we** are violently pulled away. **We** are disorientated as we soar through the air, across the street and into a parked car. Before either of us can reorient a small, shimmering fist smashes into **our** jaw driving our head through the windshield.

There's no pain at first only a feeling of weightlessness as **we** come back to ourselves but that is easily ignored in favor of listening to the tingling _spider_ _sense_.

**We** dodge the next punch and retaliate with **our** own one-two combo. A barrier of some kind stops the first hit but the second makes contact with an up coming fist... for some reason it snaps like wood. **We** immediately capitalize at the apparent advantage and launch ourselves at the assailant, pinning them to the ground with enough force to the road.

It is only then that **we** recognize the face of our attacker. Blonde and beautiful Victoria Dallon is glaring at us with levels of anger that is only surpassed by the pain she must be feeling. I'm ninety percent sure that I just splintered the bones in Glory girl's arm.

**Fuck.**

**XxX**

**A/N: and here's the next chapter of TMV. Sorry for the delay but October has been... difficult. Loved the Venom movie and i honestly can't wait for the sequel Woody Harrelson looks like he'll make a good Cletus Kasady. As for Carnage joining with Jack Slash... well i can't really say if that will happen... their motivation are too different despite the similarities in means for achieving their goals. Carnage just wants to kill but he wouldn't strive to end the world because then there would be nothing to kill.**

Thanks for your patience and i hope you enjoy this!


	8. Touch 2.2

Touch 2.2

She doesn't give us a chance to explain and a broken arm doesn't stop her.

Glory Girl kicks us into the air with a knee strike that could have killed a minor brute. She's not thinking if she were she'd be clutching her damaged limb protectively instead of charging at us like a drugged up bull. She punches us higher until we clear a six-story building and then she hits us again with a wild haymaker. The longer she fights the more we notice the pain getting to her. Her strikes are becoming unfocused and getting sloppy. The teen before us is a far cry from the idealistic hero that's plastered onto every teen Parahuman magazine from here to New York.

She is rage personified. Glory girl doesn't stop to consider the consequences of her actions as she attacks; she's trying to kill us. She thinks we're a threat because we are getting results. Because we've been doing what she wishes she could be doing. Cleaning up the streets. Healing the wounded. Protecting the Innocent and purging the Guilty.

And then she spikes us towards a building. From the look of it was rather pristine without any signs of graffiti or the usual wear and tear that frequented poorer neighborhoods. There was even an old man in a suit by the door standing at the edge of a green carpet meant to welcome guests. As we gracelessly towards the hotel on a hill I realized that we are currently heading to the Convent, aka the oldest and most expensive hotel to ever. EVER, be built in Brockton Bay. I had only been in there once when mom published her first book.

And then she died a week later.

Our mind flings into overdrive as we try to think of ways to slow ourselves down but none of would be violable. The shield prevents us from webbing Glory Girl and swinging away, if we grew wings it would stop us but Glory Girl would just drive us through a wall. Right now my mobility is reduced because there's nothing I can latch onto but if we wait until-

Dodge!

There was a sound, distant at first… almost like humming and then it hits like a freight train.

"ARRGHHH!" Pure. Fucking. Agony. My body felt like it's tearing itself apart. That's the only way to describe getting hit by whatever that was. It pushes us away from the hotel but puts us in the street. My other recoils… pulling back just as my back hits the pavement.

KRAAK!

There is a short burst of pain before I go numb.

My body goes ragdoll and my shadow goes silent.

Hurt.

Alone.

God… so… alone.

The pain from the blast was nothing compared to the silent dread that filled me. It's been weeks since I felt so small and vulnerable. Instinctually I reach out to my other… both mentally and physically but all I feel is numbness and that the only thing that is coming is pain.

Glory Girl's fist goes through my heart like tissue paper and there is nothing I can do about.

"No!" Someone yells as darkness clouds my vision. A man in a rather plain costume with golden lion heads runs towards me but I could feel myself fading… away.

'

Heal up, kid.' A gruff voice whispered in my ear. It wasn't the hiss of my shadows sweet voice but it was equally familiar. It brought a sense of security and love lost. Even though the numbness I could feel my other's joy and elation despite the raw waves anger that radiated from it. 'I'll take it from here.

…

Eddie?

XXX

Taylor!

No.

NO!

NOT AGAIN!

NEVER AGAIN!

XXX

The false heroes were too busy arguing to notice when we rose. My other turns her faux her back into muscle and makes us swell in in muscle and in size until we're like we were before. We are taller than Taylor as Venom and were built to take the Juggernaut. The girl in the school uniform while looked pissed as hell while the kid with the lion aesthetic was raging at her pretty hard. Probably had something to do with my other's newest host… good kid. A bit young and far too angry but at least she wasn't swearing up a vendetta against a kid like Parker.

It felt good to be back despite how we left things. After all the manipulations and Carnage… seeing my beloved this happy and protective of a host warmed our heart up something good.

Well… their heart.

Shit. I'm probably dead.

'The boy fightsss with ssoundsss, Eddie!' My other hissed out. Its anger and rage pouring into me like a typhoon… these emotions would have consumed the new host but to me? It was just another drop in the ocean 'He hurt Taylor! Rip him apart! Eat hissss BRAIN!'

"Do you have any idea what you've done?!"

"I was-"

"You don't get to talk! She was on the floor and you killed her like she was nothing!"

"She was hurting Amy!"

"Witnesses say otherwise!"

"I know what I saw."

"You killed-."

"She's moving!"

We didn't let diet-Shriek turn. One quick punch to the back of the head, strong enough to knock Frank Castle out cold later and he was unconscious… with a dent the size of our fist in his helmet… and a concussion that'll bother him for a good long while. Blondie tried to sucker punch us while our attention was focused on the other kid but Spider-Man used to that all the time.

Of course, we dodge it, Parker was faster than this and his sucker punches had a quip to go with it.

"You wanna fight like an adult?" It comes out like a growl and that's fine. Neither of us is feeling chipper, despite our reunion… however brief it may be. "Fine."

Discount Sentry was as clumsy of a fighter as that Black and red Spider-brat but then again he was angry and so was she… so perhaps there was some skill there but anger is as poisonous to humans as it is to Symbiotes. Our muscles bulge as we strike the girl's shield. It cracked and shattered giving us the opportunity to finish the fight before it escalated into a full-on brawl with a full team, maybe this worlds Avengers if it took too long. A kick to the leg shattered her knee, a smack a tug and the splintered arm aggravates the wound and a twist decommissions it for good. She screams, I scowl but continue our assault anyway. My beloved wants her to die and I'll admit that I'm not feeling particularly merciful.

I won't kill her. I won't be responsible for dragging them through that dark path but making her suffer a fraction of Taylor's pain is the type of justice I can happily get behind.

Even without the punch through the chest without our Symbiote Taylor would have become a paraplegic with all her dreams of becoming a hero smothered by an overzealous teenager and she sure as hell didn't deserve to die.

Like I said Taylor is a good kid but its way too early for her to have a moment like this. It's one of those moments that either make or break you. Taylor hesitated and she paid the price. She'll learn from this and come to understand that 'heroes' are a hotheaded group that won't listen until you MAKE them listen, the same thing happened with Spider-Woman when we were pregnant with Sleeper.

It was pretty brutal but fuck that kind of violence isn't spontaneous. The way she hit Taylor… it couldn't have been her first time fighting like that. There was a time when I would have taken the hits like a champ, fought for the fun of it but the girl inside us was missing most of her heart and I couldn't risk this little shit having some kind of secret power.

We take her out but we make it hurt and we sure as hell don't hold back. A solid punch to the jaw knocks her down with enough force that she rebounds off the ground. In the span of a few seconds the brat is a bloody whimpering mess but it doesn't make us feel anything resembling guilt.

'KILLL HERRR'

So we turn around, ignoring my other's demand that we finish the brat, just in time to see a kid on a flying skateboard and another dressed as a medieval Iron Man drop in. Iron lad hit us with a beam of energy… that did absolutely nothing to us? He kept at it though.

'This universe really sucks.' We sigh as we prepare to dodge Marty Mcfly's laser gun but we didn't have to worry… because a girl in a homemade Venom costume appeared out of nowhere and threw a large wrench at his head… knocking him off the board, to the ground.

Taylor has some badass fans.

"Guess she really threw a wrench in your plans, huh?" I joke but the smile drops when we feel our children approach. Four Symbiotes possessing a dog charge at Iron lad with enough force to dent his knightly armor.

"You really don't sound like Venom, her jokes are wayyyy better." Taylor's fan chimes as she approaches us and I realize that despite the fuller body we're dealing with a kid. "What's up with that? Are you her dad or something?"

"Or something…" We answer with a smile while we watch our children knock switch between pinning hoverboard boy down and knocking Iron Lad down whenever he got to his knees. Watch a hero in power armor turtle is always fun. "But I really don't have time to get into that. You gotta place where we can lie low?"

"Depends where Venom is." She challenges while picking up her weapon. "Can't leave my girl hanging, capeesh?" Knowing that it would be easier to show her than explain we open our chest to show Taylor, as she would look like as Venom.

"She's pretty banged up."

The girl's posture changed from cautious to angry as soon as the words "Should have nailed Glory Hole when I had the chance." She muttered in a way that made us certain that she didn't want us to hear. "Yeah, I know a place. My big bro won't like that I'm bringing you but he can go suck a whole box of…" We don't let her finish because we can hear several vehicles approaching the hotel. In one fluid motion w place her around our wide shoulders and take off into the air. "Hey! " Hybrid, or what's left of them camouflaged and followed close behind.

"You point, I swing." My instructions were short and sweet despite the indignation in the girl's protest. "Cooperate and we might survive." Pause for effect, grin and say: "Do we have a deal?"

XXX

A/N: Sorry about the long wait but between the seventeen rewrites this chapter went through, finding the time to write them, and a busy schedule it took a bit to finish and I am sorry. I can't promise it won't happen again but I will do my best so it won't.

Now to clear something up before some people cry foul, Eddie Brock isn't back. He's a failsafe. I got the idea from Venom 8 when Flash Thompson's personality took the wheel while Eddie and a catatonic Symbiote tried to escape from Ultimate Reed Richards' base on 616. If you're not caught up with Venom's current comic run, I highly recommend it. It uses retcons effectively and dare I say, well, beautifully.

Hope you liked the chapter. See you soon.


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